JOHN  HOPKINS 
DENISON 


Avery  Architectural  and  Fine  Arts  Library 
Gift  of  Seymour  B.  Durst  Old  York  Library 


BESIDE  THE  BOWERY 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2013 


http://archive.org/details/besideboweryOOdeni_0 


Fhoto  by  Rogers  &  Hewing. 

THE  LADY  OF  GOOD  CHEER 


BESIDE  THE   BOWERY 


BY 


JOHN  HOPKINS  DENISON 


SOMETIME  PASTOR  OF  THE 
CHURCH  OF  THE  SEA  AND  LAND 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

1914 


OfF! 


Copyright,  19 14, 
By  DODD.  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

Introduction ix 

I    Ingenuity  Askew i 

II    A  Living  Wage 13 

III  The  Economic  Value  of  a  Husband 20 

IV  A  Twig  Transplanted 26 

V    A  Song  of  Exorcism 38 

VI    A   Temporary   Husband 46 

VII    The  Grey  Dress 59 

VIII    A  Lost  Soul 71 

IX    The   Lost  Battle 79 

X    A  Cruel  Dilemma 89 

XI    A  Domestic  Crisis 95 

XII    Waiting 102 

XIII  A  Battle  by  Night 109 

XIV  The  Glory  in  the  Gloom 129 

XV    The  Bright  Side 145 

XVI    A  Man  with  Five  Lives 151 

XVII    A  Modern  Miracle 161 

XVIII    A   Ring   of   Gold 175 

XIX    A  Practical  Joke 188 

XX    A  Battle  with  Demons 199 

XXI    A  Strange  Disciplinarian 210 

XXII    The  Curriculum  of  City  Life 229 

XXIII    A  Criminal  by  Necessity 237 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

Prompt  Aid  to  the  Injured 32 

Rear  Court  on  Cherry  Hill    .......  82 

Under   the   Shadow 100 

The  Ink  Pot 120 

A  Raid  in  Hamilton  Street >   .      .164 

The  Sign  of  Death 194 

Homeless 278 


INTRODUCTION 

There  are  lives  so  full  of  inspiration  and  self- 
sacrifice  and  faith,  that  one  feels  the  wish  to  hold 
fast  the  memory  of  every  detail,  and  to  place  them 
in  some  treasure  house  impregnable  to  the  assaults 
of  time,  where  each  event  and  word  may  be  pre- 
served. Such  a  life  Eliza  Rockwell  lived  among 
the  folk  of  many  lands  and  many  needs  in  the 
crowded  tenements  beside  the  Bowery.  The 
story  of  her  life  is  written  so  deeply  into  the  lives 
of  many  hundreds  that  it  might  easily  be  read  by 
any  who  would  take  the  pains.  But  her  work  was 
hidden  away  in  the  narrow  crowded  streets  under 
the  shadow  of  Brooklyn  Bridge,  and  there  are  few 
of  the  upper  world  who  know  even  her  name. 
Those  who  have  known  her  personality  will  al- 
ways treasure  every  memory  of  her  life  and  work, 
and  it  is  chiefly  for  their  sake  that  the  author  has 
collected  these  memories  of  her  life  among  the 
people  whom  she  loved  better  than  her  own  health 
and  happiness. 

Few  of  her  friends  will  ever  forget  the  service 
held  in  her  memory  in  the  old  Church  of  the  Sea 
and  Land,  close  to  the  Bowery,  in  the  neighbour- 
hood where  she  had  worked  so  long.  The  church 
was  filled  from  the  pulpit  to  the  doors  by  men  and 


x  INTRODUCTION 

women  whom  she  had  helped  in  the  hour  of  their 
sorest  need.  Their  presence  was  no  formal  or 
perfunctory  matter.  They  came,  moved  by  deep- 
est reverence  and  love,  for  they  knew  that  she  had 
laid  down  her  life  for  them.  There  was  scarcely 
a  dry  eye  in  the  church  as  they  looked  for  the  last 
time  on  her  form,  worn  out  by  hard  and  faithful 
work  in  their  behalf.  There  was  hardly  a  soul 
there  to  whom  she  had  not  brought  life  and  hope 
in  some  hour  of  sickness  or  despair.  I  looked  into 
one  face  after  another  and  remembered  all  the 
bitter  struggles  with  hunger  and  disease  and  sin  in 
which  she  had  borne  a  part.  I  pictured  each  as 
he  had  been  and  saw  what  through  her  he  had 
become.  I  wished  that  all  men  might  see  what  I 
saw,  and  understand  what  one  brave,  self-sacrific- 
ing life  may  do  to  transform  humanity. 

An  ordinary  description  of  Eliza  Rockwell 
would  convey  to  a  stranger  not  the  slightest  idea 
of  what  she  really  was.  To  depict  certain  per- 
sons, it  is  needful  only  to  tell  how  they  looked; 
and  from  the  contour  of  the  chin,  the  flash  of  the 
eye,  the  cut  of  a  gown,  one  knows  them  altogether. 
To  reveal  others,  one  must  tell  what  they  said,  and 
in  the  burning  torrent  of  words  or  the  brilliant 
epigram,  the  soul  of  the  man  is  revealed.  Still 
other  characters  one  can  make  clear  only  by  de- 
scribing what  has  happened  to  them,  and  we  dis- 
cover the  shape  of  their  souls  by  examining  the 
world    of    environing    circumstance    which     has 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

formed  them.  There  are  a  few,  however  —  and 
these  perhaps  are  the  greatest  souls  —  of  whom 
but  little  may  be  learned  by  these  methods.  To 
know  them,  we  must  look  not  at  their  faces,  but  at 
the  faces  of  those  about  them;  we  must  note  not 
their  words,  but  the  deeds  of  those  to  whom  they 
have  spoken;  we  must  examine  not  the  mould  in 
which  the  world  has  shaped  them,  but  the  impress 
which  their  lives  have  set  upon  the  world.  As 
they  pass,  like  some  hidden  magnet,  they  trans- 
form the  relations  of  all  things  about  them.  For 
in  them,  concealed  beneath  an  unpretending  ex- 
terior and  commonplace  words  and  everyday 
events,  lies  the  great  force  that  casts  down  the 
mighty  from  their  seats,  and  lifts  up  the  poor  out 
of  the  dunghill. 

Such  a  character  was  that  of  Eliza  Rockwell. 

It  is,  therefore,  not  the  purpose  of  this  book  to 
present  the  reader  with  an  ordinary  biography  of 
personal  description  and  facts  in  chronological 
order.  It  is  enough  to  condense  such  a  biography 
into  briefest  outline.  Mrs.  Rockwell  lived  the 
earlier  part  of  her  life  in  Binghamton,  N.  Y. 
After  the  death  of  her  husband,  she  came  to  New 
York  to  study  in  the  Training  School  for  Christian 
Workers  of  the  New  York  City  Missions.  She 
started  on  her  work  at  the  Church  of  the  Sea  and 
Land  in  1894,  and  continued  there  for  fifteen 
years.  For  those  who  did  not  know  her,  we  might 
add  that  she  was  tall  and  slender  almost  to  frailty; 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

her  face  somewhat  long  in  contour,  with  strong, 
firm  chin  and  high  forehead  and  aquiline  nose;  her 
mouth  rather  large,  with  straight  determined  lips; 
her  eyes  deep  set  and  penetrating.  But  no  amount 
of  biographical  and  descriptive  detail  would  give 
even  the  faintest  idea  of  the  real  woman.  It  is 
only  as  one  sees  the  effect  of  her  life  on  the  men 
and  women  with  whom  she  lived  that  one  begins  to 
discern  what  manner  of  person  she  was.  Under 
her  influence  lives  that  were  cold  and  hard  grew 
warm  and  sensitive;  wooden  insensibility  was 
transformed  into  living,  tender  humanity,  and 
brutal  cruelty  into  courtesy;  base  appetites  gave 
way  to  visions  of  the  spirit,  and  despair  yielded  to 
hope, —  and  it  is  only  as  one  sees  her  soul  so  re- 
flected in  the  lives  of  others  that  one  begins  to 
understand  what  she  herself  was. 

It  has,  therefore,  been  the  aim  of  the  author  in 
the  sketches  which  follow  to  picture  as  accurately 
as  possible  a  few  of  the  men  and  women  whom 
she  knew  and  loved;  because  it  is  in  their  lives 
that  those  who  knew  her  can  see  her  as  she  truly 
was;  and  it  is  in  the  mirror  of  their  deeds  and 
lives  alone  that  those  who  never  knew  her  may 
hope  to  find  a  true  image  of  her  spirit. 

Those  who  through  these  pages  may  learn  to 
see  Eliza  Rockwell  as  she  was,  cannot  fail  in  some 
measure  to  share  her  interest  in  the  men  and 
women  to  whom  she  gave  her  life,  different  though 
their  circumstances  and  characteristics  may  seem 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

from  those  of  that  world  with  which  we  are 
familiar.  Amid  the  over-refinements  of  civilisa- 
tion and  culture  we  sometimes  forget  the  great 
mass  of  men  who  are  struggling  fiercely  with  al- 
most primitive  passions,  men  for  whom  the  A  B 
C  of  the  moral  code  —  the  things  we  take  for 
granted  —  are  a  matter  of  difficult,  even  of  des- 
perate, achievement.  In  contrast  to  the  subtle 
analyses  of  the  modern  psychological  novel,  and 
the  hair-splitting  ethics  of  the  romanticist,  and 
the  exaggerated  remorse  of  the  neurasthenic, 
there  is  a  desperate  reality  about  the  battle  of  this 
frail  woman  with  the  brute  passions  of  men  for 
the  great  fundamentals  of  morality,  that  makes 
much  of  our  best  effort  seem  in  comparison  a 
mere  beating  of  the  air. 

Those  who  read  stories  of  the  slums  to  be  as- 
sured that,  frightful  though  such  an  environment 
would  be  to  us,  to  the  poor  themselves  these  con- 
ditions afford  plentiful  amusement  and  abundant 
opportunities  of  happiness,  will  find  little  satis- 
faction in  these  pages.  Nothing  can  be  more  un- 
true to  fact,  or  more  immoral  in  effect  than  the 
cheap  optimism  characteristic  of  much  so-called 
11  Slum  Literature,"  which  is  really  only  a  sop  flung 
to  the  consciences  of  those  who,  in  a  city  where 
such  conditions  exist,  enjoy  comfortable  homes  and 
happy  lives  without  stirring  a  finger  to  better  those 
conditions.  Literature  can  only  be  pernicious  in 
its  effect  if  it  leads  men  to  suppose  that  environ- 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

ment  counts  for  nothing,  and  that  when  a  man  is 
out  of  work,  half  starved,  subject  to  bad  habits, 
and  living  in  the  old-time  Cherry  Street  tenement, 
it  requires  only  a  little  religion  to  make  him  happy 
and  prosperous.  A  slight  acquaintance  with  the 
work  of  Mrs.  Rockwell  makes  one  realise  that  the 
terrible  suffering  of  the  poor  in  our  great  cities 
calls  for  remedies  far  more  radical  than  the  mere 
preaching  of  the  gospel  of  redemption  and  the  ex- 
pression of  personal  friendliness.  Under  such 
conditions  honesty  and  virtue  and  happiness  are 
so  difficult  of  attainment  as  to  seem  almost  miracu- 
lous in  the  case  of  those  who  realise  them,  and  the 
fact  that  men  are  willing  to  struggle  toward  them 
against  such  desperate  odds,  and  that  at  times  they 
do  succeed  in  attaining  them,  should  give  an  as- 
surance that  when  such  men  receive  a  fair  chance 
they  will  respond  to  it  in  a  way  that  will  abun- 
dantly repay  the  efforts  made  in  their  behalf. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate  the  distress 
and  wretchedness  of  the  men  and  women  described 
in  these  sketches,  for  Mrs.  Rockwell's  work  in 
New  York  covered  those  terrible  years  when  thou- 
sands of  able-bodied  workingmen  could  find  no 
employment,  and  little  children  were  sent  to  school 
day  after  day  with  no  food.  It  is  not  surprising, 
therefore,  that  in  many  cases  even  one  with  such 
extraordinary  power  over  men  as  she  possessed, 
should  have  failed;  but  it  should  be  evident  from 
the  narratives  that  follow  that  her  failures  were 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

due  to  conditions  the  existence  of  which  is  a  blot 
upon  a  Christian  civilisation. 

These  sketches  make  no  pretence  of  being  well- 
rounded  stories.  They  are  descriptions  of  actual 
events  and  of  real  persons,  presented  as  accurately 
as  memory  can  depict  them,  in  the  hope  that  they 
may  aid  in  preserving  to  those  who  loved  her,  the 
thought  of  one  who  was  possessed  of  the  unfalter- 
ing faith  that  there  is  no  life  so  perverted  but 
that  with  a  true  friend  and  a  fair  chance  it  may  be 
transformed  to  a  thing  of  worth  —  one  who  in 
that  faith  gave  herself  and  all  that  she  had  to  the 
service  of  her  neighbours  beside  the  Bowery. 


INGENUITY   ASKEW 

There  is  a  certain  fascination  about  canvassing 
the  ancient  tumble-down  tenements  of  lower  New 
York.  Each  door  opens  upon  some  new  and 
strange  type  of  life.  One  sees  side  by  side  the 
flags  of  all  nations,  and  reads  inscriptions  in  every 
language  from  Hebrew  and  Greek  to  Chinese. 
One  passes  at  a  step  from  Syria  to  Lithuania,  from 
Sicily  to  furthest  Russia  and  Japan.  One  may 
enter  upon  a  mixed-ale  party  or  a  rag-pickers'  bee, 
a  sweat-shop  or  a  dive.  One  meets  every  sort  of 
greeting,  from  the  whining  welcome  of  the  beggar 
to  the  resentful  curse  of  an  anarchist. 

Of  all  the  homes  into  which  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  entered  on  her  journeys  of  friendship  the 
one  which  impressed  her  perhaps  most  vividly  with 
its  strangeness  was  one  which  she  discovered  on  a 
winter  day  in  a  wretched  old  tenement  in  Water 
Street.  It  was  a  season  when  thousands  were  out 
of  work  and  the  distress  was  so  great  that  she  had 
been  asked  to  go  through  the  poorest  tenements 
in  search  of  those  who  were  actually  starving  and 
who  had  not  found  the  city's  sources  of  relief.  As 
she  ascended  from  door  to  door,  she  was  greeted 
by  responses  in  almost  every  known  tongue,  and 


2  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

when  she  reached  the  fourth  floor  of  the  tenement 
and  knocked  at  one  of  the  doors,  it  was  a  pleasant 
surprise  to  hear  a  "  Come  in,"  in  good  broad 
Scotch. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  by  no  means  pre- 
pared, however,  for  the  scene  which  met  her  eyes 
as  she  entered  the  room.  Its  chaotic  contents 
made  it  appear  like  the  headquarters  of  some  queer 
Demiurge  who  was  attempting  to  equip  a  world 
with  some  new  and  strange  form  of  vegetation. 
The  floor  was  piled  high  with  dry  stalks,  and 
brown  bushes,  and  withered  weeds,  and  shrubs; 
and  beside  them  were  heaps  of  some  kind  of  vege- 
table matter  of  an  unnaturally  vivid  shade  of 
green.  Nearby  she  was  horrified  to  see  a  huge  tub 
filled  with  blood  or  something  that  counterfeited 
it  successfully.  A  neighbouring  vat  contained  a 
bright  green  poisonous-looking  liquid.  Over  it 
bent  a  wiry  little  Scotchman  with  dark  side  whisk- 
ers, a  sharp  nose,  a  sharp  chin  and  sharper  eyes. 
His  face  was  decorated  with  a  colour  scheme  which 
rivalled  that  of  an  Indian  brave.  Green  was  the 
predominant  shade,  but  the  weird  and  ghastly  ap- 
pearance which  it  imparted  was  fortunately  re- 
lieved by  a  few  brilliant  dashes  of  scarlet  and  gold. 
Opposite  this  chromo  sat  a  woman  with  a  good 
homely  Scotch  face  and  keen  brown  eyes,  one  of 
which  persisted  in  a  special  independent  twinkle  of 
its  own,  while  the  other  glowered  in  a  questioning 
scowl.      She  was  busily  engaged  in  tying  up  bun- 


INGENUITY   ASKEW  3 

dies  of  flowers,  whose  odd  shape  and  vivid  hues 
would  have  given  Linnaeus  a  troubled  half-hour 
before  he  could  have  discovered  a  Latin  phrase 
sufficiently  profane  to  do  them  justice.  There 
was  a  singular  and  penetrating  odour  about  the 
whole  place,  an  odour  at  once  pungent  and  yet  sug- 
gestive of  some  heavy  and  overpowering  perfume. 
The  room  seemed  full  of  children.  Two  little 
girls  were  helping  their  mother  gather  and  bind 
the  stalks.  A  small  boy  also  lent  occasional  aid, 
while  a  smaller  child  played  on  the  floor.  A  baby 
was  asleep  on  the  bed,  the  only  article  of  furniture 
in  the  room  which  was  not  piled  high  with  the 
materials  of  their  labour. 

The  Scotchman  turned  his  decorated  counte- 
nance slightly  toward  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 
The  sharp  nose,  standing  out  like  an  illuminated 
capital  in  scarlet  and  gold,  added  emphasis  to  the 
snappy  query:     "  Who  are  you?  " 

She  explained  herself  as  best  as  she  could,  but 
not  to  his  satisfaction. 

"  Well,  if  ye  come  frae  a  kirk  ye  can  get  out 
o'  here !  "  he  said.  "  They're  all  fakes,  frauds 
and  liars!  I  know  'em  and  I  want  none  of 
'em!" 

"  Don't  talk  like  that,  Tom,"  said  his  wife. 
"  I  know  her.  She's  a  good  lady  and  she's  helped 
lots  o'  poor  folks  around  here.  Don't  mind  him," 
she  said  to  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  "  he's  terrible 
cranky   about  the   church.     Some   of  the  church 


4  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

people  treated  him  awful  mean,  an'  he'll  never  for- 
give 'em." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  sat  on  the  edge  of  a 
chair  full  of  bushes,  patted  the  head  of  a  little 
girl  who  stood  by,  and  talked  with  the  mother, 
while  the  man  worked  on  in  sulky  silence. 

The  man  did  his  best  to  freeze  out  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer,  but  something  in  her  voice  as  she 
chatted,  seemed  gradually  to  wake  old  associations 
in  his  mind,  and  he  listened  in  spite  of  himself. 
Her  voice  had  the  singular  power  of  suggesting 
even  to  the  most  unimpressionable  some  softening 
memory  of  a  mother  or  of  a  home.  It  struck  the 
note  of  the  eternal  womanliness !  He  looked  up 
at  some  casual  appeal,  and  caught  the  twinkle  in 
her  kindly  eyes,  that  were  surveying  him  as  one 
might  look  at  an  absurdly  petulant  child.  Her 
firm  lips  and  strong  chin  were  quite  as  determined 
as  his  own  square  Scotch  jaw,  and  somehow,  before 
he  knew  it,  he  had  capitulated,  and  was  talking  as 
if  he  had  known  her  all  his  life. 

He  recounted  to  her,  how,  in  desperation  be- 
cause he  was  out  of  work,  he  had  devised  this 
extraordinary  employment.  Over  in  the  Jersey 
flats  he  had  found  growing  a  weed  with  a  tall  stalk 
and  prickly  pod,  which  opened  into  a  sort  of  star. 
He  gilded  the  centres  of  these  and  painted  the 
prickly  calyx  a  bright  scarlet.  Then  he  gathered 
a  mass  of  brown  vegetation  which  he  dyed  bright 
green  and  tied  up  in  bunches  with  the  scarlet  and 


INGENUITY   ASKEW  5 

gold  flowers.  Being  a  good  salesman  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  leaving  a  couple  of  these  bunches  in  ex- 
change for  a  quarter  in  nearly  every  tenement, 
advocating  them  as  an  incomparable  ornament  for 
the  mantelpiece.  The  people  of  the  tenements 
were  unable  to  resist  the  charms  of  these  gorgeous 
blooms,  which  were  guaranteed  never  to  wither, 
and  he  prospered  greatly. 

There  was  also  a  subordinate  source  of  revenue. 
He  had  discovered  a  spot  where  skunk  cabbage 
grew  in  profusion.  He  thought  the  plants  inter- 
esting and  unusual,  and  dug  them  up  and  brought 
them  home,  but  the  unpleasant  odour  reduced  their 
market  value  to  zero.  He  had  accordingly  hit  on 
the  idea  of  pouring  citronella  perfume  into  the  cup 
of  the  plant.  It  retained  the  perfume,  which  com- 
bined with  its  original  odour  to  make  something 
quite  new  and  entirely  unrecognisable  in  the  olfac- 
tory sphere.  Then  he  potted  the  plants  and  sold 
them  as  "  Japanese  lilies."  The  East  Side  not  be- 
ing skilled  in  botanical  analysis  was  charmed  by 
these  strange  oriental  flowers,  and  delighted  with 
their  rare  perfume,  and  bought  all  he  could  pre- 
pare. He  calculated  to  adopt  another  business 
before  the  citronella  wore  off  and  left  the  original 
nauseating  odour. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  entirely  won  the  Don- 
ald family,  and  they  became  loyal  attendants  at 
church.  For  a  year  or  so  everything  prospered. 
They  were  very  religious,   they  knew  the  Bible 


6  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

thoroughly,  and  were  to  all  appearances  honest, 
and  earnest  in  prayer.  Then  something  began  to 
go  wrong.  They  ceased  to  prosper.  Donald 
had  at  length  glutted  the  market  for  scarlet  and 
gold  bouquets,  and  Japanese  lilies  were  no  longer 
in  good  odour  with  the  public.  He  had  found 
other  employment,  but  lost  it  without  adequate 
cause.  Things  went  from  bad  to  worse.  One 
day  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  found  little  Agnes 
barefoot  and  ragged,  begging  in  the  street.  She 
went  to  hunt  up  the  family  and  found  the  mother 
and  six  children, —  a  new  baby  had  just  arrived, — 
huddled  in  a  wretched  little  attic  in  Cherry  Street, 
and  there  enshrined  in  the  place  of  honour  upon 
the  kitchen  table  was  the  dark  squat  Divinity  to 
whose  malevolent  influence  she  at  once  ascribed 
the  change  in  their  fortune.  It  needed  no  further 
proof  that  they  had  betaken  themselves  to  the  wor- 
ship of  evil  spirits,  when  there  before  her  stood  the 
visible  evidence  thereof  —  a  black  bottle. 

It  was  a  hard  blow  to  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 
She  hated  to  think  that  all  their  earnestness  in  re- 
ligion had  been  a  cloak  of  deception  to  disguise 
such  a  worship  as  this.  It  was  no  trifling  matter 
to  her.  She  gave  to  the  men  and  women  whom 
she  found  battling  with  evil  and  poverty  that  pas- 
sion of  love  which  is  itself  a  Divine  gift,  and  it 
cut  her  to  the  heart  to  find  that  she  had  been  de- 
ceived. It  was  this  love,  disappointed  and  yet 
still  trusting,  that  spoke  in  the  burning  words  with 


INGENUITY   ASKEW  7 

which  she  reproved  the  woman  before  her.  Mrs. 
Donald  listened,  at  first  with  flushed  cheeks  and 
angry  eyes,  and  then  with  bowed  head  and  hot 
tears  as  she  recognised  the  supreme  authority  that 
alone  has  the  right  to  reprove  another  and  enter 
into  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  soul.  Hard  though 
she  was,  she  melted  before  it  into  confession. 
They  had  both  been  drinking,  and  Donald  had  be- 
haved like  a  demon.  Her  face  and  breast  were 
scarred  with  his  blows.  He  had  driven  the  chil- 
dren into  the  street  to  beg,  and  had  taken  for 
drink  the  money  they  brought  back.  For  some 
days  they  had  lived  in  sodden  intoxication,  leaving 
the  children  to  run  wild  after  each  had  done  his 
turn  at  begging. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  did  her  utmost  to 
bring  Donald  to  his  senses,  but  he  was  too  far  gone 
in  drink  to  be  susceptible  to  reason  or  affection. 
He  continued  to  beat  his  wife  and  the  children  and 
to  drive  them  out  upon  the  streets  to  beg.  At  last 
the  family  had  to  be  given  up  in  order  to  save  the 
children.  The  Society  for  the  Prevention  of 
Cruelty  to  Children  was  called  in.  Donald  was 
intoxicated  and  resisted  when  the  agents  came; 
and  as  a  result  he  was  given  two  months  on  the 
Island.  Two  of  the  girls  and  the  boy  were  put 
in  the  Juvenile  Asylum.  The  oldest  sister  and 
the  babies  were  left  with  the  mother. 

When  the  two  months  were  up,  Donald  re- 
turned sober  and  penitent,  and  manifested  a  great 


8  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

desire  to  get  back  his  children.  The  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  told  him  that  the  Society  refused  to 
give  them  up  until  he  had  a  decent  home  for  them, 
and  could  give  good  evidence  that  he  was  sincere 
in  his  renunciation  of  whiskey.  In  a  year  or  so, 
with  his  wife's  help,  he  had  acquired  a  nice  little 
home.  But  just  as  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
began  to  feel  safe  about  helping  him  in  securing 
the  return  of  the  children,  she  found  evidence  that 
he  was  drinking  again.  The  more  she  learned  of 
his  former  abuse  of  the  children  the  more  she 
hesitated  to  put  them  again  into  his  hands.  When 
she  refused  her  aid,  Donald  stormed  and  raged. 
He  denounced  her  and  the  church  as  kidnappers, 
frauds,  and  liars.  He  secured  a  lawyer  who  made 
appeals  in  behalf  of  a  "  poor  but  honest  labourer, 
robbed  of  his  children  by  the  malice  and  slander 
of  the  church  and  by  the  injustice  and  barbarity  of 
the  Gerry  Society." 

Donald's  plea  found  supporters,  as  such  pleas 
against  the  church  often  do,  but  it  was  not  until 
the  younger  girls  were  fifteen  and  sixteen  that  the 
father  got  possession  of  them  again.  The  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer  continued  to  treat  him  with  kind- 
ness, and  even  helped  him  in  one  crisis  by  paying 
his  rent  when  he  was  about  to  be  dispossessed.  In 
return,  supported  by  his  lawyer,  he  lost  no  oppor- 
tunity to  insult  her,  and  to  denounce  the  church. 
It  would  have  been  hard  to  predict  anything  but  a 
disastrous  future  for  the  reunited  family. 


INGENUITY   ASKEW  9 

One  morning  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  discov- 
ered it  plainly  written  in  the  pages  of  The  Sun. 
She  could  not  help  smiling  as  she  read,  at  the  char- 
acteristic cleverness  of  the  daughters  of  the  canny 
Scot  who  once  supplied  the  tenements  with  flowers 
surpassing  all  the  efforts  of  Nature;  but  she  felt 
defeated  and  depressed  to  know  that  all  her  work 
had  not  availed  to  prevent  such  extraordinary  in- 
genuity from  going  wrong.  The  papers  gave  an 
account  of  the  arrest  of  the  girls  for  obtaining 
money  under  false  pretences.  They  pretended  to 
be  the  daughters  of  a  gentleman  of  social  promi- 
nence who  had  forsaken  the  elegant  leisure  of  their 
palatial  home  on  Madison  Avenue  to  go  about  so- 
liciting funds  for  a  mission  in  the  slums  in  which 
their  father  was  interested.  They  were  trained  as 
beggars  from  the  cradle,  and  now  that  they  were 
dressed  in  the  becoming  gowns  bequeathed  them 
by  a  lady  of  fashion,  they  had  sufficient  beauty  and 
charm  to  win  even  greater  success  than  when  they 
were  clothed  in  rags.  After  they  had  collected  a 
goodly  sum  their  contributors  began  to  make  re- 
quests to  visit  the  mission.  This  was  confusing, 
and  threatened  to  interrupt  the  income  which  was 
flowing  in  upon  them  in  such  rich  streams.  They 
were  clever  enough,  however,  to  expand  their 
scheme  to  meet  the  demands.  One  day  after  a 
particularly  insistent  inquiry  from  a  wealthy  con- 
tributor, Alice  came  forward  with  a  suggestion: 
"  I  have  it,  Agnes !  "  she  cried.     "  We  must  really 


io  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

have  a  mission  to  show  these  guys.  They  won't 
take  any  more  of  our  dope  without." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  Agnes. 

"  I  mean  we  can  rent  a  hall  in  the  slums,  and 
there  are  always  lots  of  fool  mission  workers 
crazy  to  hear  themselves  speak,  and  we  can  get 
some  one  of  'em  to  come  each  night.  You  can 
play  the  piano,  and  I  can  do  a  bit  of  exhorting  if 
we're  up  against  it  for  talk.  We've  got  plenty  of 
money  to  rent  a  cheap  stove  and  some  chairs  and 
a  piano,  and  when  we  can  really  show  the  place, 
we'll  raise  twice  as  much.  Only  we  must  have  it 
somewhere  where  there'll  be  plenty  of  ragged  old 
loafers  looking  for  shelter  and  a  chance  to  sit 
down." 

They  worked  out  the  plan  to  the  letter.  They 
selected  a  favourable  spot  in  Brooklyn,  rented  a 
stove,  a  piano  and  some  chairs  and  soon  had  per- 
suaded a  goodly  number  of  mission  workers  to 
come  and  help  on  certain  nights.  The  mission 
soon  was  filled  with  the  usual  crowd  of  the  desti- 
tute, and  they  were  able  to  tabulate  a  sufficient 
number  of  conversions  to  increase  their  income  by 
a  considerable  amount.  In  the  meantime  they  had 
found  it  expedient  to  separate  from  their  father 
and  mother,  who  claimed  the  lion's  share  of  their 
funds  and  spent  it  on  drink.  Their  parents  bit- 
terly resented  this  desertion,  and  sought  them 
everywhere,  but  could  find  no  trace  of  them. 

One  night  the  mother,  dispossessed  of  her  home 


INGENUITY   ASKEW  n 

and  just  recovering  from  a  prolonged  spree,  saw 
the  open  door  of  the  mission,  and  tired  of  walking 
the  streets  with  her  latest  babe  in  her  arms,  went 
in  to  rest.  To  her  utter  amazement  she  beheld 
her  two  daughters  on  the  platform.  She  arose  to 
her  feet  and  prepared  to  denounce  them.  Alice 
saw  her  standing  there,  ragged,  dishevelled,  her 
hair  falling  about  her  ears,  and  her  dirty  shawl 
wrapped  around  the  baby.  It  was  easy  to  guess 
her  mother's  intent  to  expose  them. 

She  whispered  to  Agnes:  "Look!  There's 
Mother !  If  she  speaks  she'll  give  the  whole  show 
away." 

She  stepped  down  swiftly  to  the  woman's  side 
and  whispered,  "  If  you  say  a  word  we're  all  done 
for;  keep  your  mouth  shut  and  we'll  give  you  all 
you  want." 

Then  she  returned  to  the  platform  and  said: 
"  That  poor  woman  has  been  walking  the  streets 
all  day  with  her  baby,  with  nothing  to  eat.  She 
has  no  home,  no  place  to  sleep,  and  not  a  penny  in 
the  world.  We  can't  turn  her  out  in  the  cold  with 
that  child.  Christ  said  to  take  in  the  strangers, 
and  I  am  going  to  take  her  into  my  own  house. 
She  shall  sleep  in  my  own  bed,  and  so  long  as  there 
is  a  roof  over  my  head  she  shall  be  cared  for." 

The  audience  was  greatly  impressed  by  her  self- 
sacrificing  charity.  Some  one  proposed  a  collec- 
tion, and  the  girls  soon  had  in  their  possession  a 
considerable  sum  of  money,  which  they  devoted  to 


12  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

fitting  out  their  mother  with  more  suitable  gar- 
ments. 

For  a  time  their  colossal  deceit  worked 
smoothly,  but  the  father  was  on  their  trail.  He 
tracked  his  wife,  and  when  he  found  her,  there  was 
such  a  violent  altercation  that  the  neighbours  sent 
for  the  police.  The  case  was  thoroughly  investi- 
gated by  the  Associated  Charities  and  the  girls 
were  arrested. 

Alice  and  Agnes  were  highly  indignant  at  this 
turn  of  affairs.  "  Why  should  we  be  arrested?  " 
they  said.  "  We  work  for  a  living.  If  any  one 
thinks  it's  a  soft  snap  to  run  a  mission  every  night 
in  the  year,  and  raise  money  for  it  every  day,  let 
him  try  it.  They  say  we  spend  some  of  the  money 
given  for  the  mission  on  ourselves  to  go  to  the 
theatre  and  all  that,  but  so  does  this  agent  of  the 
Charities  that  hasn't  been  arrested.  Where  does 
he  get  the  money  he  spends  from  his  salary  to  go 
to  the  theatre?  Some  one  gave  it  to  the  Charity 
Society  for  their  work  with  the  poor.  A  person 
must  have  a  little  fun  now  and  then."  The  Court 
did  not  respect  their  indignation  nor  appreciate 
their  arguments.  They  had  at  last  reached  a  place 
where  they  could  no  more  be  helped  by  the  love 
and  patience  of  the  friend  whom  they  had  rejected, 
and  it  was  the  hand  of  the  law  which  at  length 
dealt  the  Donald  family  its  "  coup  de  grace." 


II 

A  LIVING  WAGE 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  devoted  to  all  the 
dwellers  in  her  district,  but  like  all  of  us  she  had 
her  favourites,  and  one  of  these  was  old  Mrs.  Lar- 
kins.  There  were  those  for  whom  the  dirty 
crowded  tenements  of  Cherry  Hill  seemed  a  nat- 
ural habitat.  They  had  found  their  own  place,  in 
obedience  to  the  resistless  law  of  gravitation,  and 
she  appreciated  that  if  she  removed  them  to  higher 
spheres,  they  would  only  sink  again  to  the  same 
dead  level,  unless  first  she  could  put  into  them  a 
new  spirit.  When  this  was  accomplished,  she 
found  that  they  rose  spontaneously  into  a  better 
environment.  There  were  others,  however,  who 
did  not  belong  in  Cherry  Street,  and  who  were 
held  down  by  the  operation  of  laws  which  she  felt 
increasingly  to  be  unjust  and  inhuman.  Though  in 
most  cases,  salvation  depended  on  a  change  in  the 
individual, —  in  cases  such  as  these  it  seemed  to 
involve  a  change  in  the  whole  social  and  industrial 
order. 

She  felt  this  especially  when  she  looked  at  Mrs. 
Larkins,  and  saw  the  clear-cut,  regular  features, 
the  high  brow  and  the  smooth,  evenly-parted, 
white  hair,  the  cheeks  thin  and  pale  from  lack  of 

13 


i4  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

food,  but  still  fair  and  unfurrowed  by  wrinkles, 
and  then  noted  the  quaint  old  bonnet,  the  pathetic, 
worn  coat  and  the  skirt, —  clean  but  patched  in  a 
score  of  places.  Every  line  and  stitch  in  the  cloth- 
ing told  the  story  of  cruel  want  and  desperate  need, 
just  as  every  line  in  the  face  spoke  of  a  character 
faithful  to  all  virtue,  an  intelligent  mind  and  a 
brave  spirit. 

News  had  reached  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  that 
Mr.  Larkins,  who  had  long  been  ill  and  out  of 
work,  was  very  sick,  and  she  at  once  determined 
to  call.  She  made  her  way  with  some  difficulty 
up  a  black  stairway  in  an  ancient  dwelling  house 
in  Catherine  Street.  When  she  had  reached  what 
seemed  to  be  the  top,  she  turned  to  one  side  and 
groped  her  way  to  the  winding  stairs  that  led  yet 
nearer  to  the  sky.  She  knocked  on  the  door  at 
the  top,  and  entered  a  true  attic  room.  Here 
there  seemed  to  be  hardly  a  square  yard  of  wall 
or  ceiling  that  was  not  interrupted  by  some  queer 
angle.  The  roof  was  high  enough  to  accommo- 
date a  giant  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  even  a 
Tom  Thumb  would  have  felt  obliged  to  stoop. 
The  only  light  came  through  a  dormer  window 
which  interrupted  the  slope  of  the  ceiling,  and 
which  was  set  so  high  that  a  Goliath  could  not 
have  looked  through  it.  On  a  bed  at  one  side  lay 
a  man.  His  head  was  the  head  of  a  philosopher, 
with  a  high,  bulging  forehead  seamed  with 
wrinkles.     His  hair  and  close-cropped  moustache 


A   LIVING   WAGE  15 

were  grey.  His  clear-cut,  aquiline  nose  and  keen, 
dark  eyes  that  looked  out  beneath  bushy  brows 
betokened  intellectual  force  of  a  type  that  is  not 
accustomed  to  make  its  habitat  in  a  fourth-ward 
attic. 

At  a  table  near  by  Mrs.  Larkins  sat  sewing.  A 
large  pile  of  trousers  lay  beside  her  on  the  table. 
She  had  a  pair  in  her  hands,  and  was  sewing  with 
feverish  haste,  holding  her  work  close  to  her  spec- 
tacled eyes.  She  did  not  even  stop  working  when 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  entered. 

"  How  do  you  do !  "  said  Mrs.  Larkins.  "  I'm 
glad  to  see  you.  It's  the  lady  from  the  church," 
she  added  with  a  glance  at  the  sick  man. 

He  responded  by  a  grunt,  which  could  hardly 
have  been  interpreted  as  an  enthusiastic  welcome. 

"  Excuse  me  if  I  keep  on  working,"  the  woman 
continued.  "  I've  got  to  finish  these  trousers  to- 
day somehow.  How  I'm  going  to  do  it,  I'm  sure 
I  don't  know,"  and  she  glanced  at  the  huge  pile 
with  a  long-drawn  sigh. 

11  Certainly,  go  right  on  with  your  work,"  said 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  I  heard  Mr.  Larkins 
was  sick,  and  came  in  to  see  if  there  was  anything 
I  could  do." 

"  If  you  came  in  to  read  the  Bible  or  the  Prayer 
Book  to  me,  you  may  just  as  well  go  away,"  said 
the  old  man  crustily.  "  I've  been  a  printer  for 
nearly  fifty  years,  and  I've  set  up  enough  stuff 
about  the  Bible  to  know  there  isn't  any  truth  in  it; 


16  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY    , 

and  as  for  a  God,  you  won't  find  many  printers  who 
believe  in  any  such  thing.  You  can  fool  these 
ignorant  people  around  here  all  you  want,  but  a 
printer  has  to  keep  up  with  the  thought  of  the 
world.  He  doesn't  take  any  stock  in  your  old 
superstitions.  I've  set  up  plenty  of  articles  in  my 
time  that  proved  as  plain  as  could  be  that  there 
wasn't  any  God." 

This  tirade  did  not  rouse  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  to  antagonism.  She  was  looking  at  him 
closely,  trying  to  determine  whether  this  was 
merely  a  pose,  or  whether  his  words  were  sin- 
cere. 

"  But  don't  you  sometimes  wish  that  you  had 
God's  help?"  she  said  at  last. 

"  Nonsense !  What  do  I  want  God's  help 
for?"  he  answered  testily.  "I  can  do  what's 
right  if  I  want  to, —  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  right 
and  wrong." 

"  I  think  most  of  us  find  it  very  hard  always  to 
do  what  is  wisest  and  best,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer.  "  We  find  that  we  do  foolish  things  in 
spite  of  ourselves,  and  then  have  to  suffer  for 
them." 

"  That's  true  enough,"  broke  in  the  woman. 
"What's  the  use  of  talking,  John?  You  know 
you  wouldn't  have  lost  your  job  and  got  sick  if  you 
hadn't  been  terrible  foolish." 

"  I've  never  harmed  any  man,"  said  the  man, 
"and  if  a  man  wants  to  drink  a  glass  now  and 


A   LIVING   WAGE  17 

then  there  isn't  anything  wrong  in  that.  He's  got 
a  right  to  do  as  he  chooses  with  his  life." 

"  Do  you  feel  satisfied  with  what  you've  done 
with  your  life?  "  asked  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

The  old  man  remained  silent  a  moment.  The 
keen  grey  eyes  wandered  from  her  face,  and 
seemed  to  be  looking  far  away  into  the  past. 
"  I'm  not  saying  I  didn't  hop.e  for  something  dif- 
ferent," he  said  at  last.  "  We  were  born  on  the 
old  island  of  Jersey  in  the  Channel,  and  when  we 
got  married  and  started  to  come  over  here  we 
thought  we  were  going  to  do  great  things,  didn't 
we?  "  he  went  on.  "  I  never  thought  to  be  lying 
in  a  great  garret  with  nothing  to  eat  and  my  wife 
working  herself  to  death  to  keep  a  roof  over  our 
heads.  It's  shameful  the  way  they  pay  a  woman 
for  working,"  he  added  with  a  sudden  flash  in  the 
keen  eyes.  "  It's  all  wrong.  If  there  was  a  God, 
he  would  straighten  out  some  of  these  things,  I  can 
tell  you.  I'm  not  any  too  good  myself,  but  if  I 
was  God  I  wouldn't  let  them  grind  down  wretched 
women  with  hard  work  and  starve  them  with  poor 
pay  in  any  world  I  made.  How  much  do  you 
think  they  give  her  for  finishing  those  trousers?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 
"  Perhaps  as  little  as  ten  cents  apiece." 

"  Ten  cents  apiece !  They  give  her  eighteen 
cents  a  dozen  pair,  and  work  as  hard  as  she  can, 
she  can't  do  more  than  a  dozen  a  day.  Our  rent 
is  little  enough  here,  but  she  can't  even  pay  that, 


18  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

let  alone  buying  food.  Do  you  think  a  just  God 
would  stand  a  world  like  that?  " 

11  It  is  terrible/'  said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer, 
"  too  terrible  for  words.  But  they  say  that  the 
kind  of  work  which  is  done  by  women  at  home 
wouldn't  be  done  at  all  unless  it  could  be  done  so 
cheaply.  It  does  seem  as  if  they  ought  to  pay 
more,  or  else  that  the  work  ought  not  to  be  done. 
I've  just  been  to  see  some  people  in  Cherry  Street. 
The  man  is  out  of  work  and  has  two  little  children. 
His  wife  found  a  chance  to  make  those  little  round 
boxes  that  they  use  for  charlotte  russe.  I  went  in 
and  found  them  working  like  mad  creatures,  while 
the  children  played  on  the  floor  near  by.  The 
woman  was  pasting,  the  man  fitting  the  cardboard 
together  and  piling  up  the  boxes.  How  much  do 
you  think  they  got  for  making  those  boxes  ?  They 
got  $1.80  for  5,000!  They  could  just  clear  their 
rent  and  get  a  bit  to  eat  by  working  furiously 
from  dawn  into  the  night.  I  know  another  girl 
whose  father  and  mother  are  both  crippled.  She 
tries  to  support  the  family  by  making  artificial 
flowers.  She  does  best  with  violets  and  they  give 
her  twenty-five  cents  a  gross, —  a  quarter  for 
making  144  flowers!  " 

"  It's  not  right,  I  tell  you,"  said  the  old  printer. 
"  As  long  as  any  human  being  is  giving  his  best 
skill  and  strength  to  his  work,  he  ought  to  get 
enough  to  pay  to  keep  him, —  yes,  and  enough  so 
that  he  could  have  a  little  fun  out  of  life;  and  I  tell 


A   LIVING   WAGE  19 

you  if  any  just  God  had  the  ordering  of  this  world 
he'd  see  that  it  was  arranged  that  way." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  arranging  it,"  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  said.  "  If  we  were  all  true  Christians 
things  would  be  about  as  you  want  them,  wouldn't 
they?" 

"  Perhaps  they  would,"  he  asserted,  "  but  that 
won't  happen  this  year." 

11  We  can  each  one  of  us  start  in  and  do  our 
best,"  she  replied.  "  That  will  be  a  beginning  at 
least." 

"  It  won't  do  any  good  for  me  to  start,"  he  said. 
"  When  you've  made  good  Christians  out  of  all 
the  rich  men  and  employers,  come  to  me  and  per- 
haps I'll  join  in." 


Ill 

THE  ECONOMIC  VALUE  OF  A  HUSBAND 

"  It's  a  comfort  to  make  a  call  once  in  a  while  on 
a  good  normal,  respectable  working  family," 
thought  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  as  she  started 
to  climb  the  steps  of  a  neatly  kept,  old-fashioned 
house  in  Cherry  Street.  One  gets  tired  of  finding 
a  skeleton  in  every  house,  especially  among  the 
poor,  who  have  no  closets  in  which  to  conceal  it, 
and  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  felt  the  need  of  a 
commonplace  conversation  about  housekeeping  and 
dressmaking  and  babies  and  other  normal  subjects 
of  feminine  interest.  Mrs.  Finley's  house  was  in 
pleasing  contrast  with  the  squalid  and  poverty- 
stricken  home  she  had  been  visiting.  There  was 
a  well-furnished  parlour  into  which  Mrs.  Finley 
ushered  her  distinguished  visitors,  throwing  open 
the  blinds  to  illuminate  the  gaily  coloured  chromos 
on  the  walls,  and  the  satin  scarfs  that  decked  the 
mantel  and  adorned  the  back  of  the  plush  sofa. 
Mrs.  Finley  was  always  saluted  by  that  name, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  married  to  Mr. 
Hart.  Perhaps  the  old  name  persisted  because 
Miss  Rose  Finley,  her  daughter  by  her  former 
marriage,  focussed  the  attention  of  the  public. 
Miss  Rose  was  a  very  pretty  girl  of  sixteen  with  a 


THE   VALUE    OF   A   HUSBAND        21 

fluffy  mass  of  golden  hair,  a  pink  and  white  com- 
plexion, and  red  and  pouting  lips.  Her  name  was 
familiar  through  that  block  in  Cherry  Street,  and 
was  naturally  transferred  to  her  mother.  More- 
over, Mr.  Hart  was  an  insignificant-looking, 
elderly  workingman,  wizened  and  wiry,  who  never 
seemed  to  have  anything  to  say  for  himself,  but 
went  to  his  work  regularly  every  morning,  and  did 
not  return  until  nightfall. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  looked  at  her  watch 
as  she  knocked  at  the  door,  allowing  herself  ten 
minutes  of  quiet  conversation  with  Mrs.  Finley 
before  she  returned  to  her  problems.  It  was  a 
somewhat  broken  voice  that  called  "  Come  in," 
and  she  entered  to  find  Mrs.  Finley  sitting  with 
her  apron  to  her  eyes,  sobbing  distressfully. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Finley!  What  is  it?"  she  asked. 
"  Has  anything  happened?  M 

11 1  can't  stand  it  no  longer,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Fin- 
ley. "  It  ain't  no  use  tryin'.  There  ain't  nobody 
as  has  such  troubles  as  me,  and  I'm  just  clean  beat 
out." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  sought  to  mask  her 
amazement.  So  there  was  a  skeleton  here,  of  all 
places !  She  would  sooner  have  looked  for  one  in 
a  butler's  pantry!  What  could  it  be?  Her 
thoughts  went  at  once  to  the  daughter.  She  must 
be  the  cause  of  the  trouble. 

"  Has  anything  happened  to  Rose?  "  she  asked. 
11  Do  tell  me  if  I  can  do  anything  to  help." 


22  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY. 

"  Oh,  it's  too  awful!"  Mrs.  Finley  sobbed. 
"  To  think  that  my  daughter  should  ever  hear  such 
things  and  see  such  things!  If  she  isn't  ruined  it 
will  be  a  wonder." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  more  and  more 
mystified.  To  construct  a  skeleton  out  of  such 
very  commonplace  family  materials  was  a  task  for 
the  imagination  that  was  beyond  her.  She  could 
only  sit  and  wait  till  the  closet  door  was  opened. 

"  It  wasn't  like  this  when  Mr.  Finley  was 
alive,"  the  woman  went  on.  "  He  was  a  decent 
hard-working  man,  and  he  always  treated  me  like 
a  lady." 

Then  the  skeleton  had  its  hiding-place  in  Mr. 
Hart's  coat  tails.  So  much  was  evident.  But 
what  mysterious  diabolism  could  work  under  the 
form  of  that  wizened  old  workingman? 

"  Has  Mr.  Hart  done  anything  wrong  to  you?  " 
she  asked. 

Mrs.  Finley,  ordinarily  a  quiet,  self-contained, 
woman,  was  utterly  beside  herself  to-day.  Her 
suffering  had  reached  a  point  where  it  must  find 
expression. 

"  Oh,  he's  a  terrible  man !  "  she  burst  forth. 
"  You  wouldn't  believe  it  to  look  at  him,  but  he's 
near  killed  me  again  and  again.  Last  night  he 
beat  me  within  an  inch  o'  me  life.  An'  I  had  the 
house  all  fixed  up  for  him  and  a  nice  supper  on 
the  table.  But  he  was  that  cranky  that  nothing 
suited  him,  and  he  cursed  me  and  threw  the  dishes 


THE   VALUE    OF   A   HUSBAND        23 

on  the  floor.  Such  language !  It  ain't  fit  for  my 
daughter  to  hear  such  talk.  He  comes  home 
drunk  every  Saturday  night,  and  he's  as  cross  as  a 
bear.  You  can't  get  a  word  out  o'  him  that  isn't 
a  curse.  He'll  be  the  death  o'  me  —  I  tell  you  I 
can't  stand  it  no  longer.  Me  an'  him  has  got  to 
part." 

"  I  don't  blame  you  for  feeling  as  you  do,"  said 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  who  had  listened  in 
amazement  at  this  unexpected  outburst.  "  No 
one  believes  more  than  I  do  in  a  wife's  standing 
by  her  husband,  but  you  have  your  daughter  to 
think  of,  and  this  man  is  not  the  father  of  your 
children.  If  he  is  what  you  say  he  is,  and  nothing 
will  make  him  treat  you  decently,  I  think  you  are 
perfectly  right  in  separating  from  him.  You  can 
come  up  to  the  church  on  Thursday  night  and  see 
the  lawyer  there  and  he  will  draw  up  the  papers 
for  you." 

Mrs.  Finley  took  her  apron  from  her  eyes  and 
stopped  sobbing.  "  You  mean  for  me  to  get  a 
separation  from  me  husband?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  I'll 
help  you  if  you  wish.  It  is  terrible  that  you  should 
be  treated  so." 

'  Yes,  it's  mighty  bad,"  said  Mrs.  Finley, 
slowly  drumming  on  the  table  with  her  fingers, 
"  but  you  see,  I  don't  know  as  I'd  best  get  a  separa- 
tion!' 

"  You    mean    you'd    rather    have    a    divorce? 


24  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

That  would  be  much  more  difficult.  I  don't  know 
if  that  could  be  done." 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  I  want  a  divorce." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want?  If  you  are  to  be 
protected  from  this  man,  you  must  have  a  separa- 
tion or  a  divorce." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  Maybe  I  was  too  hasty. 
It  does  seem  terrible  hard,  but  I  don't  believe  I 
want  a  separation." 

"What!  Do  you  really  care  for  him  in  spite 
of  all?" 

"  Care  for  him!  "  said  Mrs.  Finley.  "  Yes,  I 
love  him  just  like  I  would  the  grizzly  bear  in  the 
zoo  if  he  was  me  husband.  Bah !  I  hate  the  sight 
of  him." 

"  Well,  then,  why  don't  you  want  a  separa- 
tion?" 

"  Well,  you  see  some  ways  he  treats  me  pretty 
good,  better'n  lots  o'  husbands  I  know.  He  al- 
ways brings  his  money  home  regular  every  Satur- 
day. He  keeps  two  dollars  for  the  drink  and 
hands  over  ten  dollars  to  me.  'Tain't  every  wife 
as  gets  the  whole  o'  ten  dollars  when  her  man's 
only  making  twelve." 

11  That  is  a  good  point,  certainly,"  said  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer.  "  It  seems  to  show  that  he  cares 
more  for  you  than  many  men  do  for  their  wives." 

"Cares  for  me!  Not  much  he  doesn't!  He 
treats  me  like  dirt." 


THE   VALUE    OF   A   HUSBAND        25 

"  But  I  don't  understand.  Why  don't  you  want 
to  leave  him?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  after  Mr.  Finley  died  I  had  a 
terrible  hard  time.  I  had  to  scrub  and  wash,  and, 
work  as  hard  as  I  could,  we  pretty  near  starved  to 
death.  Now  I  get  ten  dollars  a  week,  and  that's 
enough  to  keep  up  a  nice  home.  There  ain't  many 
men  would  give  me  that  much,  neither.  Of 
course  it's  hard, —  his  beatin'  and  cursin'  me  every 
Saturday  and  Sunday  when  he's  home;  but  it  ain't 
nowhere  near  so  hard  as  workin'  all  week  till  your 
back's  broke,  and  you  can't  see  straight,  and  all 
your  body  hurts  like  you'd  been  pounded,  fer  a 
promise  of  five  dollars,  and  never  knowin'  when 
you'll  get  kicked  out  to  starve.  You  see  it's  like 
this:  Husbands  is  mighty  mean  to  live  with,  but 
you  can't  live  at  all  without  'em.  It's  a  sight 
better  to  have  a  nice  home,  and  put  up  with  a  row 
oncet  a  week,  than  to  live  a  dog's  life  all  the  time. 
When  a  woman's  married  she's  only  got  one  man 
to  knock  her  around  a  bit  now  and  then,  but  when 
she's  alone,  every  one's  knockin'  her  around  all  the 
time,  and  she  never  knows  when  she'll  be  turned 
onto  the  street  to  die  o'  starvation.  I  guess  I 
know.  I  ain't  lived  that  way  five  years  for 
nothin'.  I  get  discontented-like  now  and  then,  but 
in  me  heart  I  know  what's  good  for  me.  When 
I've  got  a  husband  I  know  enough  to  stick  to  him." 


IVi 

A    TWIG    TRANSPLANTED 

11  If  I  get  enough  money  to  move  you  to  another 
house,  will  you  try  to  keep  it  clean  and  get  rid  of 
these  old  rags?  "  asked  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
of  Mrs.  Malloy. 

She  was  standing  in  a  dark  basement  room,  for 
she  did  not  dare  to  sit  down.  The  room  was  lit- 
tered with  great  piles  of  dirty  rags  and  broken  im- 
plements that  were  heaped  everywhere  against  the 
wall,  under  the  table  and  in  the  chairs.  There 
were  black  rags,  blue  rags,  red  rags,  and  above  all 
brown  rags  once  white.  It  looked  as  if  the 
woman  had  picked  up  every  filthy  scrap  from  the 
tenement  yards  and  stored  it,  as  the  bibliophile 
litters  his  room  with  choice  and  ancient  editions. 
The  odour  of  this  soiled  decaying  mass  of  rags  was 
so  unspeakably  offensive  that  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  felt  positively  ill.  The  thought  that  a  man 
and  his  wife  and  two  children  actually  lived  in  this 
refuse  heap,  filled  her  with  disgust  and  horror. 
She  would  have  preferred  to  sleep  on  an  ash  heap 
in  the  open  air  rather  than  be  shut  up  in  a  dark 
basement  with  this  hoard  of  garbage.  The 
woman  was  not  an  Italian  ragpicker.  The  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer  knew  many  such  in  Cherry  Street 

26 


A   TWIG   TRANSPLANTED  27 

whose  rooms  were  piled  high  with  carefully  as- 
sorted bales  of  rags.  There  was  no  reason  for 
this  insane  collection  of  dirty  poisonous  refuse, 
other  than  some  queer  quirk  in  the  woman's  mind 
which  led  her  to  cling  to  every  soiled  scrap  that 
came  within  her  reach. 

Again  and  again  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
had  begged  Mrs.  Malloy  to  clean  house  and  get 
rid  of  this  mass  of  debris  for  the  children's  sake. 
Several  times  the  woman  had  promised  to  destroy 
her  strange  collection,  but  it  seemed  that  she  really 
could  not  nerve  herself  to  make  the  sacrifice.  She 
was  a  shrunken,  apologetic  little  person,  arrayed 
in  a  selection  of  her  own  rags,  so  that  she  looked 
like  a  third-class  scarecrow, —  by  no  means  the 
distinguished  type  that  wears  a  complete  suit  of 
clothes,  and  stands  erect  and  defiant  with  out- 
stretched arms  threatening  the  thief,  but  the  kind 
that  is  patched  up  with  all  sorts  of  remnants,  and 
that  stands  battered  and  browned  by  the  weather, 
all  huddled  and  shrunken  in  the  consciousness  that 
all  men  and  birds  must  be  repelled  by  its  grotesque 
ugliness.  Her  husband,  a  stout  cumbrous  man, 
with  a  fat,  heavy,  and  unintelligent  face,  sat  and 
stared  at  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  with  the  blank- 
ness  of  a  Chinese  idol.  His  round  bulging  eyes 
seemed  to  gaze  through  her  into  vacancy,  and  it 
was  sometime  before  she  discovered  he  was  almost 
blind.  There  was  a  bright-faced  little  girl,  and  a 
boy  full  of  the  quick  nervous  energy  that  charac- 


28  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

terises  the  New  York  street  urchin.  The  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer  was  determined  that  during  their 
years  of  growth  they  should  not  have  this  rag 
heap  for  their  only  home. 

Fortune  favoured  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 
To-day  when  she  called  she  learned  that  the  family 
was  to  be  dispossessed.  They  were  without  funds, 
and  desperate,  and  the  visitor  saw  her  opportu- 
nity to  drive  a  stern  bargain.  Mr.  Malloy  had 
the  chance  to  take  up  a  business  in  coal  and  ice  in 
Hamilton  Street,  if  he  could  secure  the  necessary 
capital. 

"  If  you  will  let  me  send  little  Mamie  away  to 
the  country,  I  will  try  to  get  enough  money  to 
start  Mr.  Malloy  in  business,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  will  you?"  said  Mrs.  Malloy,  clasping 
her  hands  in  cringing  gratitude.  "  How  can  I 
thank  you!  If  we  could  only  get  money  to  move 
and  get  started  in  business  everything  would  be  all 
right  again,  wouldn't  it,  Tim?  " 

Mr.  Malloy  made  a  sound  between  a  growl  and 
a  grunt,  which  might  have  been  expressive  of  grati- 
tude or  resentment.  They  were  both  people  of 
some  education  who  had  seen  better  days,  but  little 
by  little  through  his  blindness  and  her  strange  pen- 
chant for  rags  and  dirt,  they  had  sunk  to  the  degra- 
dation in  which  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had 
found  them. 

At  length  the  bargain  was  consummated  in  spite 
of    the    unresponsive    grunts    of    Mr.    Malloy. 


A   TWIG   TRANSPLANTED  29 

Mamie,  a  frail,  pale  child  clothed  in  the  best  rags 
her  mother  could  pick  from  the  heap,  was  sent  to 
the  country.  It  was  a  novel  enough  experience 
for  her,  and  she  looked  forward  to  it  with  enthu- 
siasm. She  had  heard  of  the  woods  and  fields  and 
longed  to  see  their  wonders.  As  she  drove  away 
from  the  country  station,  the  road  led  between 
some  huge  piles  of  logs  corded  and  ready  for  ship- 
ment. Through  her  father's  trade  in  combustibles, 
she  was  familiar  with  coal  and  wood  and  had  nat- 
urally thought  of  the  forests  as  the  inexhaustible 
source  of  the  wood  she  had  seen.  In  school  she 
had  heard  much  of  the  woods,  and  she  looked  for- 
ward to  seeing  a  forest  as  soon  as  she  reached  the 
country.  As  they  drove  between  the  piles  of 
corded  firewood,  she  cried  excitedly:  "  Are 
those  the  woods?  Say,  are  those  the  woods?" 
It  took  the  old  farmer,  who  was  driving,  some 
time  to  realise  that  this  child  of  the  city  was  actu- 
ally so  ignorant  of  Nature  as  to  suppose  that  these 
piles  of  logs  were  a  primitive  forest.  She  was 
placed  in  a  nice  old  farm  house,  far  away  from  the 
noise  of  the  railroads  and  from  all  association  with 
city  life.  Here  the  days  went  by  while  she  learned 
to  feed  the  chickens,  milk  the  cow,  peel  the  pota- 
toes and  dig  in  the  garden.  Slowly  she  was  meta- 
morphosed from  the  pale,  nervous  child  of  the  city, 
to  a  fat-limbed,  rosy-cheeked  country  girl. 

In  the  meantime  the  Malloys  moved,  the  neces- 
sary capital  being  duly  supplied  by  the  Lady  of 


3o  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

Good  Cheer.  Some  days  later  she  called  at  their 
new  dwelling.  She  entered  a  low  basement  far 
below  the  level  of  the  street.  The  front  room 
was  half  full  of  coal,  which  was  strewn  all  over  the 
floor.  The  black  dust  was  on  the  walls  and  win- 
dows, on  the  chairs  and  table,  on  the  coat  and  face 
of  Mr.  Malloy,  who  sat  in  an  armchair,  staring 
with  his  unblinking  goggle  eyes,  more  josslike  than 
ever.  The  walls  were  hung  with  the  dirty  hats, 
coats  and  shovels  of  the  street  cleaning  depart- 
ment, for  Mr.  Malloy  had  cleverly  added  to  his 
business  by  making  his  store  a  checking  office  for 
the  garments  of  the  street  cleaners,  whose  station 
was  adjacent.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  passed 
by  the  unblinking  joss  who  saluted  her  with  a 
grunt,  and  paused  in  dismay  at  the  door  of  the 
room  behind.  This  was  the  space  reserved  for 
family  life.  It  was  totally  dark.  No  ray  of  light 
entered  save  from  the  room  in  front,  but  even  this 
feeble  illumination  sufficed  to  reveal  the  piles  of 
dirty  rags  with  which  it  was  strewn.  There  was 
not  a  corner  of  the  stifling  narrow  room  that  was 
not  heaped  with  dirty  refuse.  In  these  cramped 
quarters,  the  mass  of  debris  looked  more  appalling 
than  ever. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  about  to  remon- 
strate over  this  flagrant  breach  of  contract,  when 
she  saw  that  Mrs.  Malloy,  seated  in  the  midst  of 
her  choice  collection,  was  rocking  to  and  fro  and 
sobbing  and  moaning.     "  Oh,  what  shall  I  do," 


A   TWIG   TRANSPLANTED  31 

she  cried  again  and  again.  The  inquiries  of  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  finally  elicited  the  informa- 
tion that  Willie  had  been  accused  of  stealing  a 
dollar  from  the  pocket  of  one  of  the  coats  of  the 
Street  Cleaning  Department  that  hung  in  the  shop. 

"  Such  a  good  boy  as  he  is,"  Mrs.  Malloy  added 
indignantly.  "  As  soon  as  he  gets  home  from 
school,  he  takes  his  papers  and  off  he  goes  to  sell 
them.  Many's  the  day  we'd  have  had  no  food 
but  for  Willie  and  his  papers.  Then  he  comes 
home  and  helps  his  father  with  the  coats  and 
shovels,  when  the  street  cleaners  go  off  duty. 
You  see  Mr.  Malloy  can't  see,  and  what  he'd  do 
without  Willie  I  don't  know.  He  has  been  play- 
ing hookey  from  school  lately,  I  know,  and  he's 
got  in  with  some  of  these  bad  Hamilton  Street 
boys,  but  I  don't  believe  my  Willie  would  steal." 

Willie  was  indeed  a  bright  boy,  with  that  aston- 
ishingly quick  intelligence  which  is  often  developed 
by  the  rough  competition  of  city  life,  and  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer  had  hopes  that  he  would  distin- 
guish himself  some  day. 

He  was  always  ready  for  any  emergency.  If 
one  of  the  gang  had  his  foot  run  over,  it  was 
Willie  who  bound  up  the  wounded  member  with 
deft  fingers  and  who  carried  his  helpless  comrade 
on  his  own  shoulders  to  the  nearest  dispensary. 

One  evening  not  long  before  the  boys  had  been 
playing  basketball  in  the  Hamilton  Street  Club 
rooms,  when  one  of  them  hit  the  gas  jet  with  the 


32  BESIDE  THE   BOWERY 

ball  and  broke  it  off.  The  gas  poured  out  in 
a  fountain  of  flame  that  licked  the  ceiling  and 
threatened  to  destroy  the  house.  There  were  two 
young  men  from  up  town  in  charge  of  the  club, 
but  in  face  of  such  an  emergency,  they  stood  aghast 
and  helpless.  They  knew  no  way  to  quench  that 
roaring  fountain  of  fire  that  was  spouting  destruc- 
tion. Quick  as  a  flash  a  small  urchin  darted  into 
a  corner,  threw  open  a  trap  door,  dived  into  it,  and 
gave  a  quick  turn  of  his  wrist.  Instantly  flame 
and  lights  went  out,  and  the  room  was  left  in  dark- 
ness. The  club  leaders  stood  utterly  amazed, 
wondering  what  deus  ex  machina  had  intervened 
in  so  unaccountable  a  way  to  save  them  from  so 
imminent  a  disaster.  It  was  sometime  before 
they  realised  that  the  gas  had  been  shut  off  where 
it  entered  the  house.  How  any  small  urchin  had 
found  out  where  the  gas  pipes  ran,  or  discovered 
the  way  to  turn  it  off,  remained  a  mystery.  And 
they  found  it  still  more  amazing  that,  granted  the 
knowledge  of  these  things,  a  mere  child  should 
have  had  sufficient  self-possession  and  intelligence 
to  do  on  the  second  the  one  thing  that  availed  to 
save  them  from  a  conflagration,  which  in  that 
crowded  tenement  district  might  have  resulted  in 
indescribable  horrors. 

The  boy  that  shut  off  the  gas  was  Willie  Malloy, 
and  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  felt  that  he  was 
worth  some  trouble.  She  had  tried  to  transplant 
him  along  with  his  sister,  for  she  saw  that  the  en- 


Phot.)  by  J.  H.  Lteuuon. 

PROMPT  AID  TO  THE  INJURED 


A   TWIG   TRANSPLANTED  33 

vironment  of  Hamilton  Street  was  rapidly  trans- 
forming him.  His  father  would  not  listen  to  the 
proposition.  They  needed  Willie  "  in  their  busi- 
ness." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  relieved  Mrs.  Mal- 
loy's  distress  by  promising  to  do  everything  in  her 
power  to  save  him  from  the  consequences  of  his 
misstep.  On  the  day  of  the  trial,  she  went  to 
plead  his  case  in  court.  As  it  was  a  first  offence, 
he  was  let  off  on  probation.  But  the  poisonous 
soil  of  Hamilton  Street  was  too  powerful  an  ele- 
ment to  be  counteracted  by  the  advice  of  a  proba- 
tion officer.  It  was  to  her  like  living  in  the  very 
shadow  of  death. 

In  spite  of  the  most  strenuous  efforts  of  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  reinforced  by  the  truant  of- 
ficer, Willie  could  not  be  kept  in  school  for  more 
than  two  consecutive  days.  There  was  always 
some  excuse  forth-coming,  and  it  soon  became  evi- 
dent that  his  delinquency  was  by  orders  of  his 
father  who  found  Willie's  financial  abilities  of 
increasing  value  in  his  complicated  business. 
Though  utterly  impervious  to  the  mathematics  of 
the  school,  he  acquired  with  astonishing  facility  the 
less  legitimate  methods  of  addition  and  subtrac- 
tion in  vogue  in  Hamilton  Street,  and  while  the 
ethical  and  political  ideals  inculcated  by  the  School 
Reader  bored  him  to  exasperation,  he  was  rapidly 
realising  the  heroic  ideals  of  the  street  gang.  His 
boyish  countenance  was  acquiring  the  hard  lines 


34  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

and  the  look  of  brutal  cynicism  which  charac- 
terises the  portraits  of  those  distinguished  person- 
ages whose  likenesses  are  preserved  in  that  gallery 
which  his  comrades  regarded  as  the  true  Hall  of 
Fame, —  the  archives  of  the  Police  Department. 

To  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  and  the  Probation 
Officer  he  always  protested  his  virtue  and  diligence 
with  such  vividness  of  language  and  abundance  of 
circumstantial  detail  that  she  could  not  bring  her- 
self to  realise  the  swiftness  of  his  moral  descent 
till  she  discovered  him  one  day  in  a  dark  courtyard 
at  the  back  door  of  a  saloon,  drinking  mixed  ale 
out  of  an  ancient  and  dirty  can  with  a  gang  of  the 
roughest  and  toughest  little  specimens  of  humanity 
she  had  ever  seen.  This  group  of  small  urchins 
carousing  in  secret,  presented  such  a  hideous  trav- 
esty on  the  vices  of  their  elders,  that  it  was  long 
before  she  recovered  from  the  horror  of  it. 

In  the  meantime  Mamie  remained  in  the  farm- 
house, far  from  the  attractions  of  Cherry  Hill. 
She  continued  to  milk  the  cows,  feed  the  pigs, 
gather  eggs  and  dig  in  the  garden.  Every  Sun- 
day she  drove  to  church  some  three  miles  away 
and  stayed  to  Sunday-School.  The  good  mistress 
of  the  farm  treated  her  like  a  daughter,  for 
though  she  loved  children,  she  had  none  of  her 
own.  No  one  who  saw  her  would  have  taken 
Mamie  for  a  child  of  the  city.  In  her  neat  dress 
and  white  apron,  with  her  smooth  braided  hair, 
and  rosy,  freckled  face,  and  fat  legs  and  arms  she 


A   TWIG   TRANSPLANTED  35 

looked  like  a  true  farmer's  daughter.  She  spoke 
no  more  with  the  accent  of  the  East  Side.  She 
had  caught  the  true  Yankee  twang  and  drawl. 
Everytime  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  visited  the 
country  she  rejoiced  in  her  achievement.  Such  an 
arrangement,  she  felt,  was  almost  too  good  to 
be  true. 

The  years  passed  and  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
was  becoming  assured  that  one  child  at  least  had 
been  permanently  saved  from  the  influence  of 
Hamilton  Street,  when  one  day  the  parents  met 
her  with  a  demand  for  the  return  of  their  daugh- 
ter. "  They  needed  her  help,"  they  said.  The 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  thought  with  horror  of  her 
reentrance  into  the  life  of  Hamilton  Street  and 
into  that  coal  hole  which  they  called  home.  She 
talked  with  the  agitated  scarecrow  and  the  resent- 
ful grunting  Joss,  day  after  day,  and  at  last  ef- 
fected a  compromise.  Mamie  should  come  and 
visit  her  father  and  mother,  but  it  was  to  be  left 
to  her  to  decide  whether  she  would  remain  or  not. 
So  the  eventful  day  arrived  when  a  fat  freckled 
country  maid  was  taken  up  to  the  city.  It  was 
now  as  unknown  and  exciting  a  land  to  her  as  the 
country  had  been  five  years  before  when  she  had 
mistaken  the  corded  woodpile  for  a  forest.  The 
rush  and  bustle  made  her  tremble.  The  hurdy- 
gurdies  and  moving  picture  shows  and  gaudy  thea- 
tre posters  made  her  thrill  with  excitement.  The 
ride  in  the  elevated  train  was  one  long  marvel. 


36  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

Then  came  the  walk  through  the  crowded  down 
town  streets, —  packed  with  aged  Jews  and  scream- 
ing children,  and  by  the  time  she  came  to  the  low 
basement  door,  she  was  quite  bewildered.  She 
went  down  the  stairs  into  the  black  coal  hole  and 
saw  the  Joss  seated  in  the  midst  of  his  array  of 
dirty  coats  and  hats,  and  staring  with  unblinking 
goggle  eyes.  She  went  into  the  dark  back  room 
with  its  foul  heaps  of  rags,  and  the  thin,  wizened 
woman  in  her  scarecrow  garments  seized  her  and 
embraced  her.  She  was  filled  with  fear  and  dis- 
gust and  began  to  cry.  This  black  malodorous 
cellar  did  not  seem  like  home,  nor  these  strange 
rag-clad  creatures  like  a  father  and  mother.  She 
wanted  to  get  away, —  never  to  see  them  again. 
But  she  did  not  want  to  leave  the  city.  She 
wanted  to  hear  its  music,  to  see  its  pictures,  to  visit 
its  theatres,  to  share  in  its  throbbing  life  again. 
She  did  not  recognise  the  ragged  lad  with  his  thin 
pinched  face  when  he  came  forward  to  greet  her. 
Indeed,  to  look  at  them  as  they  stood  side  by  side, 
no  one  would  have  imagined  that  they  came  of  the 
same  flesh  and  blood  or  even  of  the  same  race, — 
the  plump,  rosy,  freckled  girl  with  her  neat  dress 
and  slow  drawl,  and  the  sharp-faced  boy,  whose 
soiled  clothes  seemed  falling  to  pieces,  and  who 
spoke  the  quick  pungent  slang  of  the  East  Side. 

It  was  an  anxious  day  for  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer.  She  said  all  she  could  to  prove  to  Mamie 
the  superiority  of  country  life,  and  then  she  had  to 


A  TWIG  TRANSPLANTED  37 

wait  while  the  crowding  impressions  of  the  strange 
new  life  made  their  appeal  to  the  girl.  Perhaps  if 
her  parents  had  pressed  her  less  eagerly,  she  might 
have  stayed.  But  after  the  cleanliness  of  the 
country,  the  embraces  of  the  ragged  woman  in  the 
dirty  cellar  were  too  much  for  her.  Education  at 
length  triumphed  over  heredity  when  the  country- 
girl  in  Mamie  decided  against  the  coal-hole.  It 
was  not  until  she  was  safe  on  the  train  that  was  to 
bear  her  back  to  the  little  country  village  which  was 
henceforth  to  be  her  home,  that  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  felt  the  strain  of  anxiety  relax,  and  breathed 
a  sigh  of  relief.  She  went  home  with  the  image 
of  the  two  children  still  in  her  mind,  and  she 
thought  to  herself,  "  Two  twigs,  taken  from  the 
same  tree !  If  only  the  world  could  see  and  under- 
stand what  can  be  done  by  transplanting  and  a 
little  bending." 


A    SONG    OF    EXORCISM 

The  minister  was  just  starting  uptown  to  attend 
an  important  function.  He  had  laid  aside  his 
usual  uniform  of  rusty  clericals,  and,  arrayed  in 
frock  coat  and  silk  hat,  and  with  gloves  and  silver- 
headed  stick  in  hand,  he  presented  so  unaccustomed 
a  figure  of  elegance  as  to  elicit  a  prolonged  stare 
from  such  members  of  the  Men's  Club  as  were 
haunting  the  church  house  steps,  while  O'Brien 
whispered  stertorously  to  Rosenberg:  "  Say,  de 
boss  is  off  on  a  spree  for  sure,  dis  time !  " 

The  minister  was  accompanied  by  a  friend  from 
uptown  and  was  in  a  hurry,  but  as  he  passed 
through  the  hall  the  nurse  called  to  him.  "  Won't 
you  come  here  a  minute  and  get  Mr.  Halloran  to 
take  this  medicine?  " 

She  was  engaged  in  the  difficult  task  of  sobering 
off  Mr.  Halloran,  a  gallant  ex-member  of  the 
King's  Hussars.  He  was  a  most  courtly  person 
when  sober,  but  that  morning,  being  under  spirit- 
ous  influence,  he  had  had  an  altercation  with  his 
wife  which  had  ended  in  his  chasing  her  from  the 
house  axe  in  hand,  while  he  threatened  her  in  lan- 
guage which  would  have  terrified  a  cohort  of 
Zulus.     It  was  deemed  unsafe  to  permit  him  to 

38 


A   SONG   OF   EXORCISM  39 

return  home  until  the  effect  of  the  alcohol  he  had 
imbibed  had  been  completely  counteracted  by  suit- 
able medicaments. 

As  the  minister  stopped,  the  nurse  said  to  Hal- 
loran, "  You'll  take  it  if  the  minister  gives  it  to 
you,  won't  you,  Mr.  Halloran?  " 

"  Sure,  I'll  do  anything  fer  his  Riverence,"  said 
Halloran  with  a  genial  grin.  He  was  a  thin,  wiry 
man  with  a  freckled  face,  and  a  large,  expressive 
Irish  mouth  shaded  by  a  ragged  moustache.  He 
walked  with  the  loose-jointed  slouch  of  an  ex- 
cavalryman,  but  there  was  a  surprising  nervous 
agility  about  his  movements. 

As  he  spoke  he  rose  from  his  seat  behind  the 
table  with  a  sudden  jerk,  and  bowed  with  exag- 
gerated courtesy.  "  There's  no  man  in  all  the 
world  that  Oi  love  as  Oi  do  yer  Riverence,"  he 
added  with  another  bow. 

The  minister  took  the  glass  and  pushed  it  to- 
ward him  across  the  wide  table.  "  There,  Hal- 
loran, go  ahead  and  take  your  medicine,  that's  a 
good  fellow.     You  know  it  will  do  you  good." 

Halloran  reached  out  for  the  glass  and  said, 
"  All  right,  yer  Riverence." 

He  took  the  glass  in  his  hand,  made  a  bow  to 
the  assembled  company,  and  went  on  with  impas- 
sioned volubility:  "  Why  is  it  that  I  always  does 
everythin'  your  Riverence  asks  me  in  spite  o'  me- 
self?  Why  is  it  I  can't  resist  the  requests  ye  make 
o'  me?     Mr.  Rainy  asks  me  to  take  the  medicine 


4o  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

and  I  won't  touch  it;  and  Miss  Smith  asks  me  to 
take  it,  and  I  leaves  it  standing  there;  and  the 
nurse  asks  me  to  take  it,  and  I  won't  do  it;  —  but 
when  your  Riverence  asks  me,"  and  he  bowed  pro- 
foundly, "  I  takes  the  glass," —  and  he  lifted  it  to 
his  lips,  looked  at  it  hard  a  minute,  and  concluded, 
— "  an'  I  sets  it  down  on  the  table  again." 

With  great  solemnity  Halloran  deposited  the 
glass  still  unquaffed  on  the  table,  while  the  minis- 
ter's friend  from  uptown  shouted  with  laughter, 
and  the  nurse  and  her  group  of  helpers  looked 
grieved  and  disappointed  over  their  humiliating 
defeat  after  an  hour  of  work  with  the  patient. 

Just  then  a  little  boy  rushed  in  at  the  door,  hat- 
less  and  breathless.  He  was  a  slim,  handsome 
little  fellow  of  about  ten,  with  a  clear  complexion 
and  regular  features,  but  his  face  was  quite  pale, 
his  eyes  were  terrified,  and  his  hair  was  flying 
wildly.  He  ran  to  the  minister  and  in  an  excited 
whisper,  he  said:  "Me  mommer  says,  *  Come 
down  ter  our  house  quick  as  yer  can !  Me  popper 
is  drinkin'  an'  he's  took  the  knife  to  me  mommer 
and  she's  afraid  he'll  kill  me  little  brother  an'  sis- 
ter." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  minister.  "  Come 
along  I  "  and  he  darted  out  of  the  door  with  the 
small  boy.  It  was  some  blocks  away  and  they  ran 
at  full  speed  through  the  street  crowded  with 
Jewish  women  in  shawl  and  scheitel,  with  ragged 
children  of  all  ages  and  sizes,  with  pedlars  and 


A   SONG   OF   EXORCISM  41 

pushcarts.  They  turned  the  corner  into  Cather- 
ine Street,  where  the  sidewalk  was  filled  with 
throngs  of  workingmen  and  shop  girls  on  their 
way  to  the  ferry.  Through  the  crowd  they  rushed, 
—  the  ragged,  bareheaded,  barefoot  boy  and  the 
man  in  frock  coat  and  top-hat.  The  crowd  stared 
at  them  and  supposing  the  small  boy  to  be  a  pick- 
pocket, pursued  by  a  stray  inhabitant  of  Fifth  Ave- 
nue, some  of  the  more  energetic  joined  in  the  chase. 
By  the  time  they  reached  the  foot  of  Catherine 
Street  they  had  aroused  quite  a  commotion  in  a 
ward  always  prone  to  excitement. 

The  minister  knew  there  was  good  cause  to 
hurry.  The  MacLean  family  had  been  given  over 
as  a  special  charge  to  the  church  by  the  Charity 
Organisation  Society.  MacLean  was  a  good 
workman  and  a  man  of  respectable  appearance 
and  very  pleasant  manners.  His  wife  was  an 
Englishwoman,  of  quite  an  unusual  type  for  that 
neighbourhood,  neat  in  person,  a  fine  housekeeper 
and  a  good  mother.  All  would  have  gone  well 
with  them  if  MacLean  had  not  been  possessed  of 
the  Scotchman's  fondness  for  his  native  beverage. 
Because  of  that  fondness  he  had  lost  one  position 
after  another,  and  was  now  working  as  longshore- 
man. When  the  desire  for  "  Old  Scotch  "  once 
came  upon  him,  any  ordinary  dose  was  only  a  tan- 
talising irritant. 

One  day  MacLean  was  assisting  in  unloading  a 
consignment  of  whisky  from  one  of  the  steamers. 


42  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

The  job  was  about  finished,  when  in  some  way  the 
Scotchman  managed  to  secure  a  bottle  of  the 
whisky,  and  drank  it  almost  at  one  gulp,  while  the 
foreman's  back  was  turned.  How  any  one  but  a 
professional  fire-swallower  could  stand  such  a  test 
is  a  mystery  still  unsolved.  The  dose  seemed  to 
accelerate  the  activity  of  his  lanky  limbs  and  to 
transform  him  into  an  animated  windmill.  He 
collided  joyously  and  inconsequentially  with  his 
fellow  workmen,  arousing  their  ire  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  he  returned  home  with  a  black  eye  and  a 
broken  nose.  He  demanded  money  from  his  wife, 
and  when  she  refused  him,  he  attempted  to  take 
off  the  children's  shoes,  a  recent  gift  of  the  Charity 
Organisation  Society,  to  carry  them  to  the  pawn- 
brokers. The  children  wept  and  resisted,  and  in 
sudden  rage,  he  picked  up  a  carving  knife  from 
the  table  and  struck  at  the  little  girl.  His  wife 
caught  his  arm  and  screamed.  They  had  a  des- 
perate tussle  which  was  fortunately  interrupted  by 
the  arrival  of  neighbours.  Since  then,  Mrs. 
MacLean  had  lived  in  constant  terror. 

MacLean  was  always  full  of  repentance  when 
he  recovered,  which  did  not  prevent  him  from  still 
more  devilish  behaviour  on  the  next  occasion.  His 
digestive  system  must  have  been  constructed  of 
steel  piping,  for  nothing  seemed  to  put  it  out  of 
commission.  Any  ordinary  man  would  have  met 
his  death  or  reached  repentance  long  before. 

One  morning  instead  of  going  to  his  work,  he 


A   SONG   OF   EXORCISM  43 

made  an  extensive  circuit  of  the  Cherry  Street 
saloons,  and  discovered  an  individual  whom,  in 
spite  of  a  dilapidated  costume  and  a  disfigured 
countenance,  his  alcoholic  vision  recognised  as  a 
perfect  gentleman  and  a  beloved  friend.  He  re- 
turned home  with  this  affectionate  companion  in 
quest  of  further  funds.  He  found  his  wife  absent 
and  some  money  on  the  table,  and  he  picked  up  a 
pail  from  the  floor  and  started  for  the  saloon. 
He  should  have  been  sufficiently  acquainted  with 
the  habits  of  his  tidy  housewife  to  know  that  she 
did  not  leave  pails  lying  about  unless  they  were  in 
immediate  use.  He  was  in  no  mood  for  psycho- 
logical inductions,  however,  and  promptly  took  the 
pail  to  the  corner  saloon  and  had  it  filled  with  beer. 
When  he  returned  and  dipped  into  the  can  with 
his  friend,  he  remarked  that  the  beer  had  an  unusu- 
ally fine  "  bead."  His  friend  also  noted  an  espe- 
cially spicy  flavour.  The  substance  sold  in  the 
fourth  ward  under  the  name  of  beer  or  mixed  ale 
is  at  best  a  strange  compound  made  up  with  a 
basis  of  high  wines  and  flavoured  with  various 
highly  astringent  chemicals,  and  though  this  par- 
ticular mixture  attacked  the  palate  in  a  fashion 
which  seemed  unusual  even  to  MacLean,  he 
only  liked  it  the  better,  and  the  pail  was  soon 
drained.  In  a  few  moments  his  friend  was  lying 
on  his  back,  screaming  with  agony.  The  neigh- 
bours rushed  in,  an  ambulance  was  summoned,  and 
he  was  carried  away  to  the  hospital  in  what  seemed 


44  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

his  death  agony.  At  last  Mrs.  MacLean  re- 
turned. She  looked  at  the  pail  and  at  her  husband 
and  gave  a  gasp  of  horror.  As  she  sank  into  a 
chair,  she  murmured  feebly :  "  I  was  cleanin'  and 
that  pail  was  a  quarter  full  of  lye."  MacLean 
stayed  home  from  work  for  a  day.  He  informed 
his  anxious  friends  that  the  beer  had  somewhat 
overstimulated  his  digestion,  but  they  found  his 
cheerful  spirit  in  no  wise  disturbed. 

These  and  similar  events  ran  through  the  min- 
ister's mind  as  he  and  the  urchin  raced  down  the 
crowded  street.  Mrs.  MacLean  had  been  so  cer- 
tain that  the  next  time  her  husband  drank  he  would 
kill  her  or  the  children,  that  the  minister  had  prom- 
ised to  come  instantly  if  she  summoned  him.  Now 
he  was  blaming  himself  for  having  arranged  no 
more  immediate  help  for  her  than  such  as  he  could 
give  after  running  five  blocks.  The  poor  child 
with  him  thought  his  brother  and  sister  already 
murdered,  and  the  minister  shared  his  fears.  He 
seemed  to  see  MacLean  with  his  blood-stained 
knife  standing  over  the  bodies  of  his  children  —  a 
raging  beast  whom  none  could  tame.  He  sprang 
up  the  steps  of  the  tenement,  two  at  a  time,  while 
the  startled  inmates  stood  gaping  at  this  apparent 
invader  from  Fifth  Avenue,  who  was  so  evidently 
in  a  hurry  to  mount  their  stairs. 

The  minister  was  about  to  throw  open  the  door 
of  MacLean's  room  when  an  unexpected  sound 
caught  his  ear.     It  was  not  the  curse  or  groan  he 


A   SONG   OF    EXORCISM  45 

had  anticipated.  It  was  a  man's  voice  singing  in 
a  curious,  quavering,  unsteady  tone.  The  words 
and  tune  sounded  strangely  familiar.  He  pushed 
the  door  gently  open  and  looked  in,  and  could 
scarcely  restrain  a  cry  of  amazement.  The  man 
who  but  a  moment  before  had  been  an  infuriated 
brute  on  the  verge  of  murder  was  kneeling  by  the 
sofa.  He  was  dressed  in  his  longshoreman's 
jumper  and  ragged  trousers,  with  the  leathern  belt 
and  iron  hook  at  his  waist.  His  tall,  loose-jointed 
frame  sprawled  out  half  on  the  floor,  half  on  the 
couch;  and  at  his  side  knelt  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  in  her  trim  suit  of  dark  blue,  one  slim  gloved 
hand  on  the  back  of  the  sofa  and  the  other  resting 
lightly  on  his  shoulder.  Together  they  were  sing- 
ing, her  clear  voice  rising  above  his  uncertain,  quav- 
ering bass : 

"  Just  as  I  am  and  waiting  not 
To  rid  my  soul  of  one  dark  blot, 
To  Him  whose  blood  can  cleanse  each  spot, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come,  I  come." 


VI 

A    TEMPORARY    HUSBAND 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  seated  beside  Mrs. 
Johnson-Schwarz  in  the  well-furnished  parlour  of 
a  pleasant,  four-room  apartment.  She  was  at- 
tempting to  say  something  that  was  comforting, 
for  Mrs.  Johnson-Schwarz  was  weeping.  She  was 
weeping  decorously,  however,  and  at  the  same  time 
surveying  with  admiration  from  the  corner  of  one 
tearful  eye,  her  new  black  dress,  just  purchased  at 
a  reduction  sale.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  found 
words  difficult,  partly  because  the  tragedy  was  so 
terrible  and  partly  because  Mrs.  Johnson-Schwarz 
seemed  to  be  enjoying  her  grief  in  so  refined  a 
manner.  It  seemed  almost  a  sacrilege  to  attempt 
to  change  a  mood  which  was  so  eminently  appro- 
priate to  the  occasion. 

Mrs.  Keturah  Johnson-Schwarz  was  a  Scotch- 
woman of  medium  build  with  a  broad,  freckled 
face,  pale  blue  eyes  in  which  lurked  a  canny 
shrewdness,  and  a  mouth  whose  size  and  coarse- 
ness were  forgiven  because  of  its  fascinating  mo- 
bility and  variety  of  expression.  Her  open  coun- 
tenance had  a  certain  attraction,  something  of  the 
charm  that  one  finds  in  the  brown  face  and  honest 
eyes  of  an  intelligent  fisher  lad.     It  evidently  had 

46 


A   TEMPORARY   HUSBAND  47 

a  peculiar  fascination  for  men,  for  she  had  been 
several  times  married.  If  any  one  in  the  ward 
understood  the  proper  demeanour  to  observe  on 
the  death  of  a  husband  she  did.  Practice  had 
made  her  perfect. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  knew  little  of  the 
antecedents  of  Mrs.  Johnson-Schwarz.  She  had 
joined  the  church  and  demonstrated  that  thorough 
acquaintance  with  the  Scriptures,  so  characteristic, 
of  the  Scotch.  She  was  well  trained  in  theology, 
and  was  a  good  critic  of  sermons.  Her  two  boys, 
twelve  and  fourteen  years  old,  bore  the  name  of 
Johnson,  and  were  the  survivals  of  a  former  matri- 
monial dynasty.  They  had  brown  complexions 
and  slightly  kinky  hair,  which  suggested  the  theory 
that  the  earlier  dynasty  had  been  of  Nubian  origin. 
On  the  subject  of  the  character  and  fate  of  Mr. 
Johnson,  Mrs.  Johnson-Schwarz  remained  dis- 
creetly silent.  Mr.  Schwarz  had  been  a  brutal- 
faced,  low-browed  German,  in  form  squat  and 
Simian,  and  strong  as  a  gorilla.  He  kept  his  wife 
and  step-sons  in  constant  terror,  but  he  brought  in 
good  wages  from  his  work  at  unloading  the  coal 
steamers,  and  even  after  allowing  him  enough  for 
what  he  regarded  as  a  satisfactory  spree  every 
Saturday  night,  there  was  still  plenty  to  provide 
for  a  spacious  flat  and  many  of  the  luxuries.  Mr. 
Schwarz  hated  the  church  and  believed  in  nothing 
but  dollars  and  beer. 

A  few  nights  before  this  visit  of  the  Lady  of 


48  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

Good  Cheer,  Schwarz  had  gone  down  to  finish 
unloading  a  great  coal  steamer  before  daybreak. 
He  was  standing  by  the  revolving  drum  on 
which  was  wound  the  chain  that  hoisted  many 
hundred-weight  of  coal  from  the  hold  below,  and 
was  adjusting  the  chain,  when  one  of  the  men  gave 
an  unexpected  signal  to  start  the  engine.  The 
drum  turned  suddenly,  catching  his  hand  beneath 
the  chain.  Alarmed  by  his  maddened  screams, 
the  men  at  last  stopped  the  engine  and  reversed  it. 
They  picked  up  a  limp  mass  of  flesh  and  bones, 
shrieking  and  cursing  like  some  fiend  in  torment. 
They  carried  him  to  the  hospital  and  aroused  his 
wife  from  her  sleep.  She  went  to  the  church  and 
called  for  the  minister,  who  did  what  he  could  to 
reassure  her  and  to  provide  for  Mr.  Schwarz  at 
the  hospital.  In  the  morning  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  visited  him.  The  man  lay  on  his  cot  in  the 
hospital  with  crushed  limbs  and  broken  back, 
groaning,  writhing,  cursing.  He  had  but  a  few 
hours  to  live,  and  she  was  the  only  one  who  could 
prepare  this  coarse,  degraded  brute  to  meet  the 
terrible  change  which  was  so  close  at  hand.  He 
met  her  most  sympathetic  words  with  a  wolfish 
snarl,  her  prayers  with  a  curse;  and  she  left  him 
depressed  and  disheartened.  She  found  it,  there- 
fore, peculiarly  hard  to  speak  with  his  wife  of  her 
loss.  Besides  being  incongruous,  words  of  com- 
fort seemed  insincere.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
felt  that  Mrs.  Johnson-Schwa rz  would  undoubt- 


A   TEMPORARY    HUSBAND  49 

edly  miss  the  weekly  wage,  but  not  the  man  who 
had  earned  it.  She  made  an  end  to  her  call  as 
soon  as  she  could,  feeling  baffled  and  incompetent 
—  baffled  by  the  tragedy  of  a  death  justly  un- 
mourned,  and  incompetent  to  criticize  an  actress 
so  well  trained  in  her  part  as  was  Mrs.  Johnson- 
Schwarz. 

Some  months  later  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
called  upon  the  widow  in  the  humble  quarters  into 
which  she  had  moved  after  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  youVe  come,"  said  Mrs. 
Johnson-Schwarz.  "  I  was  just  coming  to  the 
church  to  ask  if  you  could  do  anything  for  this 
here  young  man." 

She  pointed  to  a  man  seated  in  the  next  room. 
He  was  clothed  in  a  loose  ragged  coat  and  trousers 
that  seemed  ready  to  disintegrate.  He  had  no 
shirt  or  collar.  His  shoes  were  worn  through 
and  showed  more  holes  and  naked  feet  than 
leather. 

"  Come  here,"  she  called.  "  I  want  to  intro- 
duce you  to  this  lady.  What's  your  name  anyway? 
I  can't  remember  it." 

The  man  rose,  six  feet  three,  vigorous  in  flesh 
and  blood.  Yellow  curls  clustered  around  his  high 
white  forehead.  His  features  were  regular  and 
strikingly  handsome,  and  a  small  golden  moustache 
curled  over  his  full  red  lips.  He  clicked  his  ragged 
heels  together  and  bowed  profoundly. 


5o  BESIDE  THE   BOWERY 

"  Braunberg-Lichtenstein,  bitte,"  he  said.  "  I 
speak  not  very  gut  English,"  he  added. 

"  I  found  him  lying  in  the  hallway  downstairs 
last  night,"  said  the  widow.  "  He'd  crept  in  out 
of  the  rain,  and  I  brought  him  in  and  gave  him 
a  bed  and  something  to  eat,  and  I  thought  per- 
haps you  could  get  some  work  for  him  up  at  the 
church." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  looked  at  him  closely. 
"  How  did  you  get  into  such  trouble?  "  she  asked. 
"  You  don't  look  like  a  tramp  or  a  beggar." 

"  Ach,  madam,"  he  said,  u  it  make  me  ashame 
so  to  speak  mit  you.  Mein  Vater  ist  Prediger  — 
how  you  say  ?  —  preacher  ?  —  in  Deutschland,  und 
mein  Onkel,  he  has  so  ein  Schloss  —  a  big  house  — 
und  money,  very  much  money.  I  vas  Offizier  in 
der  Deutsche  army,  but  I  haf  very  much  money 
spent.  Mein  Vater,  he  vas  angry  mit  mir.  He 
say,  *  Go  vay.  I  nefer  see  you  no  more.'  Now 
ist  mein  Onkel  dead,  und  he  has  much,  much  money 
left  to  me,  but  I  cannot  go.  I  haf  no  money,  no 
friend." 

He  spoke  with  many  gestures  and  a  play  of  ex- 
pression which  was  more  illuminating  than  his  lan- 
guage. The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  asked  him  to 
come  to  the  Employment  Bureau  at  the  church, 
and  suggested  that  he  consult  a  lawyer  as  to  secur- 
ing his  property.  It  was  evident  that  what  he  said 
was  partly  true.  He  was  undoubtedly  a  young 
German  officer  of  good  social  position  —  every 


A   TEMPORARY    HUSBAND  51 

movement  of  the  man  verified  so  much  of  his 
story.  The  true  cause  of  his  disgrace,  however, 
might  well  have  been  suppressed. 

A  few  weeks  later,  while  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  was  busy  with  her  reports  at  the  church, 
the  sexton  knocked  at  the  door  of  her  office.  In 
answer  to  her  "  Come  in!  "  he  said:  "  Say,  that 
there  Mrs.  Schwarz,  the  mother  of  them  two 
kink-headed  kids,  you  know,  is  out  there,  with  the 
swellest  young  gazabo  I  ever  see  in  the  old  fourth 
ward.  He's  a  peach,  a  regular  fairy,  I'm 
thinkinV 

"  Oh,  it  must  be  that  young  German  she  took 
in,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  There's  something  on  the  boards  fer  fair," 
he  went  on.  "  She's  rigged  up  ter  kill,  and  there's 
a  look  in  her  eye, —  well,  you  just  take  a  peep  at 
her  yourself,"  and  the  sexton  rubbed  his  stubby 
chin,  and  his  mouth  expanded  in  a  reminiscent  grin. 

Sure  enough,  there  sat  Mrs.  Johnson-Schwarz 
in  a  new  dress,  black  out  of  deference  to  the  de- 
parted, but  relieved  with  many  flounces  and  fugi- 
tive dashes  of  colour.  A  huge  feather  on  an 
enormous  hat  waved  over  her  freckled  face. 
She  was  blushing  coyly,  and  was  studying  the 
floor,  save  when  she  cast  an  occasional  swift 
glance  at  the  man  beside  her.  He  was  dressed 
neatly  and  fashionably,  almost  as  any  young  Ger- 
man attache  of  the  legation  might  be.  He  wore 
a  well-fitting  cutaway  coat,  and  there  was  a  carna- 


52  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

tion  in  his  buttonhole.  His  linen  was  spotless, 
and  his  tie,  gloves  and  socks  were  of  harmonious 
shades.  He  might  easily  have  been  a  selfpos- 
sessed  foreign  gentleman  of  position.  The  sim- 
pering, freckle-faced  Scotch  working-woman  at 
his  side,  overwhelmed  with  the  consciousness  of 
her  waving  plumes  and  gorgeous  apparel,  pre- 
sented a  singular  contrast. 

"  Can  I  speak  with  you  a  minute,  in  private?  " 
she  asked. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  took  her  into  the 
office  and  then  the  widow  said:  "  Me  and  him's 
goin'  to  get  married.  I  s'pose  you  think  it's  too 
soon  and  all  that,  but  he's  been  stayin'  in  my  house 
some  weeks  now,  and  the  neighbours  is  beginnin' 
to  talk,  and  the  best  we  can  do  is  to  stop  their 
mouths  right  away  quick." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  looked  at  her  aghast. 
She  felt  that  such  a  match  must  prove  utterly  dis- 
astrous. At  length  she  managed  to  say,  "  But  he 
is  so  young.  Do  you  think  you  will  get  on  well 
together?" 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  so  terrible  old  as  all  that,"  she 
answered  coyly.  "  And  then  the  boys  needs  a  man 
in  the  house  to  manage  'em.  I  can't  do  a  thing 
with  'em,  no  more." 

"  But  you  don't  know  anything  about  him,"  pro- 
tested the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  Wouldn't  it 
be  wiser  to  wait  until  you  know  if  his  story  is 
true?" 


A   TEMPORARY    HUSBAND  53 

"  Oh,  I'm  goin'  to  pay  for  a  lawyer  and  we're 
goin'  to  get  that  money.  It's  all  true  fast  enough. 
I've  seen  his  letters  and  he's  got  rich  enough  rela- 
tions over  there." 

Arguments  had  no  effect  on  the  woman.  Be- 
sides the  fact  that  she  was  entirely  bewitched  with 
the  handsome  young  foreigner,  and  had  spent  a 
good  share  of  her  savings  in  fitting  him  out,  there 
was  a  canny  Scotch  scheme  behind  the  fondness  of 
the  amorous  widow.  She  had  her  eye  on  the  for- 
tune in  Germany. 

When  the  minister  came  down  that  evening 
there  were  several  visitors  waiting  for  him.  The 
first  was  a  shy  maiden,  somewhat  advanced  in 
years  for  the  coyness  of  her  demeanour,  clad  in 
gay  but  ill-fitting  garments,  and  wearing  a  hat  sur- 
mounted by  a  scarlet  plume. 

"  I  come  to  see  would  you  marry  us,"  she  said, 
as  she  cast  down  her  eyes  and  tried  to  blush. 
"  Me  feller  had  orter  'ave  come  but  he's  a  terrible 
shy  feller,  so  I  had  ter  ax  you  meself." 

"  When  do  you  want  to  be  married?  "  asked  the 
minister. 

11  To-night  at  ten  o'clock,"  she  answered. 

"  To-night!"  he  exclaimed.  "  That  is  rush- 
ing things  too  much.  Marriage  is  a  serious  busi- 
ness. It  is  something  you  should  think  over  and 
plan  about.  I  never  marry  people  in  that  fash- 
ion, at  a  moment's  notice." 

11  But  my  feller  is  a  sailor,  and  his  ship  sails  to- 


54  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

morrow  morning,"  she  said.  "  So  we've  got  ter 
get  married  to-night." 

"  Then  you  should  have  come  and  told  me  last 
week,"  said  the  minister. 

"  I  do  not  often  marry  any  one  out  of  the  parish, 
and  when  I  do,  I  want  good  notice  of  the  marriage 
given  so  that  everything  can  be  done  in  regular 
form.     Why  didn't  you  let  me  know  before?  " 

The  maiden  blushed  and  looked  down.  "  He 
only  axed  me  ten  minutes  ago,  an'  I  come  as  quick 
as  I  could,"  she  said. 

The  minister  succeeded  in  recovering  a  serious 
expression  before  she  looked  up.  "  I'm  afraid  I 
can't  help  you  out,"  he  said.  "  It's  against  my 
rules  to  perform  a  marriage  of  that  sort.  There's 
a  sailors'  church  not  far  from  here.  Go  down 
there  and  perhaps  you  can  get  the  clergyman  to 
marry  you." 

The  maiden  went  out  regretfully,  and  Mr. 
Braunberg-Lichtenstein  entered.  He  bowed  with 
an  air  of  distinction  that  would  have  become  a 
duke.  "  Vill  you  haf  the  kindness  to  do  me  a 
great  service?"  he  said.  "Mrs.  Schwarz  and  I 
vill  get  married,  if  you  be  so  kind." 

"  Mrs.  Schwarz!"  cried  the  minister.  "  You 
wish  to  marry  Mrs.  Schwarz !  " 

"  Yes,  sie  ist  vary  gut  to  mir  and  I  haf  decided 
to  marry  me  with  her." 

"  But  have  you  thought  it  over  carefully?  She 
is  much  older  than  you;  she  belongs  to  another 


A  TEMPORARY   HUSBAND  55 

race.  Do  you  think  you  will  be  happy  togeth- 
er? " 

"  Yes,  I  tink,  I  like  her  vary  mooch." 

The  minister  did  all  he  could  to  convince  the 
German  that  the  match  would  be  an  unfortunate 
one,  but  his  words  were  useless.  The  strange 
couple  had  made  up  their  minds. 

Before  many  days  had  passed,  the  widow  ar- 
rayed in  a  bridal  dress  adorned  with  many 
flowers,  stood  proudly  by  the  side  of  the  elegant 
young  German  officer,  and  became  by  sanction  of 
the  law  Mrs.  Johnson-Schwarz-Braunberg-Lichten- 
stein. 

It  was  some  weeks  later  that  she  sought  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  in  much  agitation,  hatlesa 
and  dishevelled. 

"  My  husband!  "  she  cried.  "  He  is  gone!  I 
can't  find  him  anywhere!  " 

"What?"  cried  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 
"What  has  happened?  " 

"  Well,  you  see  he's  been  going  uptown  every 
day,  and  he  told  me  he  had  work  in  a  restaurant 
in  42nd  Street.  But  he  kept  askin'  me  for  money, 
and  tellin'  me  he  couldn't  get  no  pay  till  Saturday. 
An'  I  thinks  to  meself,  '  There's  somethin'  queer 
about  this  business,'  and  Saturday  I  puts  on  me  hat 
and  up  I  goes  to  the  restaurant.  Never  a  sign  of 
Hans  could  I  find,  and  what's  more,  they'd  never 
even  heard  of  him.  And  thinks  I,  *  There's  a 
woman  at  the  bottom  of  this  and  I'll  find  out  about 


56  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

it  yet.'  When  he  comes  home  he  gives  me  a  song 
and  dance  about  their  not  payin'  off  till  Monday 
after  all,  and  he  wants  some  money  to  fix  up  for 
Sunday.  So  I  gives  him  a  dollar  and  thinks  I, 
4  I'll  catch  you  this  time.'  Well,  Sunday  evenin' 
he  says,  '  I  think  I'll  go  up  town  to  the  Madison 
Square  Church  to-night.'  And  I  says,  l  All  right.' 
An  when  he  goes,  I  slips  on  me  hat  and  follows 
him.  He  stops  at  a  flower  store  and  buys  a  bou- 
quet, and  I  thinks,  '  Now  I'll  get  you  for  sure.' 
Well,  he  takes  the  elevated  uptown,  and  I  slips  in 
behind  without  him  seein'  me/  Sure  enough  he 
got  out  at  23rd  Street,  and  I  followed  him  over 
to  Madison  Square,  and  in  he  goes  to  the  church. 
Well,  I  begun  to  think  I  was  fooled,  but  I  went  in 
too.  He  met  a  swell  young  feller  there  and  the 
two  of  'em  sat  together.  I  waited  till  after  the 
service,  and  he  comes  out  with  the  young  man  and 
they  walks  up  Fifth  Av'noo,  arm  in  arm  together, 
him  with  his  bouquet  still  in  his  hand.  They  turns 
into  35th  Street,  and  walks  to  a  house  half  down 
the  block  and  goes  in.  Well,  it  was  cold  and  be- 
ginnin'  to  rain,  but  I  went  across  the  street  and 
leaned  up  against  a  railin'  and  waited.  In  about 
an  hour  he  comes  out,  without  the  flowers,  and  he 
walks  over  to  the  L  very  quick.  I  follows  him. 
He  got  out  at  Chatham  Square,  and  started  to 
walk  home.  It  was  late  then,  pretty  near  mid- 
night, and  I  comes  up  behind  him,  sudden  like,  and 
takes  him  by  the  arm  and  says,  kind  of  quiet  like : 


A  TEMPORARY   HUSBAND  57 

*  What  did  ye  do  with  them  flowers?  '  Well,  he 
jumped.     He    was    some    surprised,    I    tell    you. 

*  Yes,'  I  says,  *  I  saw  you  go  into  that  house  in 
35th  Street.  What  did  ye  do  with  them  flowers?  ' 
1 1  give  them  to  a  gentleman  friend  of  mine,'  he 
says.  '  Go  on,'  says  I.  '  Don't  tell  me  no  lies  I 
You've  been  lyin'  to  me  straight  every  day.  You 
ain't  been  to  work  at  no  restaurant.  Here  I've 
took  all  me  savin's  to  fix  you  up,  and  I've  give  you 
money  every  day  and  you  go  a  spendin'  of  it  on 
flowers  fer  some  woman  up  town,  and  give  me  a 
handful  of  lies  about'workin'  and  gettin'  your  pay. 
Now  you've  got  to  cut  it  out  and  get  to  work,  or 
there'll  be  trouble.'  Well  he  says  there  wan't 
no  woman  and  he  left  the  flowers  with  a  gentle- 
man friend  and  he's  goin'  to  work  Monday. 
And  this  morning  he's  gone  with  all  the  spare  cash 
in  the  house,  and  I  can't  find  a  trace  of  him  no- 
where." 

Indeed,  Mr.  Braunberg-Lichtenstein  proved  to 
be  as  irrevocably  lost  as  any  of  the  previous  incum- 
bents whose  name  the  much-married  woman  had 
borne,  and  who  had  been  snatched  from  her  by  the 
hand  of  death.  Her  grief  over  his  departure, 
though  less  decorously  expressed,  was  possibly 
more  poignant  than  that  which  she  had  felt  for 
Mr.  Schwarz.  To  do  her  justice,  however,  it 
should  be  stated  that  she  sorrowed,  not  so  much 
because  he  was  lost,  as  because  he  had  ever  been 
found.     She  sought  to  eliminate  every  trace  of  his 


58  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

incumbency  from  her  mental  horizon,  and  so,  em- 
bittered by  her  fourfold  widowhood,  she  ruthlessly 
cut  off  the  two  latest  additions  to  her  cognomen, 
although  she  had  borne  them  for  a  month  with 
great  pride.  Thenceforward  only  those  who  were 
willing  to  face  a  whirlwind  of  vituperation  ven- 
tured to  salute  her  as  Mrs.  Johnson-Schwarz 
Braunberg-Lichtenstein.  It  was  possibly  in  the 
effort  to  acquire  a  clear  and  unencumbered  title 
that  in  the  spring  she  married  a  man  with  the 
simple  name  of  Smith. 


VII 

THE    GREY    DRESS 

14  Hey,  Tim !  git  on  ter  de  fancy  washerlady  dey've 
got  in  dis  yere  pallis!  "  shouted  a  ragged  youngster 
with  a  bundle  of  papers  under  his  arm.  He  had 
just  deposited  one  of  them  in  a  narrow  court  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  the  tall  tenements  of 
Cherry  Hill.  At  his  summons  Tim's  mop  of  tow- 
coloured  hair  appeared  at  the  opening  of  the  tun- 
nel-like passage  beneath  the  tenements  which  was 
the  sole  entrance  to  the  court.  Like  the  typical 
New  York  newsboy  that  he  was,  Tim  expressed 
his  quick  appreciation  of  the  crux  of  a  dilemma  by 
shouting:  "  Get  a  wife!  Get  a  wife!"  In  a 
moment  both  boys  had  vanished  through  the  tunnel 
as  swiftly  as  they  appeared.  The  "  Washerlady  " 
thus  saluted  straightened  herself  with  some  dif- 
ficulty and  stood  erect  by  her  tubs  with  lather 
covered  arms,  and  as  she  turned,  the  newsboy's 
jeer  was  readily  explained.  The  quick  eyes  of  the 
urchin  had  seen  the  face  whose  large  drooping 
moustaches  indicated  that  this  was  no  woman,  but 
a  man  arrayed  in  a  long  apron. 

A  more  serious  person  than  the  newsboy  might 
well  have  smiled  at  the  pathetic  incongruity  of  this 
round  masculine  countenance  above  the  foaming 

59 


60  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

tubs.  The  face  had  been  that  of  a  rubicund,  snub- 
nosed,  Teutonic  peasant,  but  hunger  and  sickness 
had  left  a  pale  shadow  on  the  ruddy  cheeks,  so  that 
he  looked  like  an  old  Franz  Hals  over  whose  vivid 
tones  some  unfeeling  hand  had  put  a  coat  of  white- 
wash. He  was  about  to  dive  into  his  suds  again 
after  his  interruption,  when  a  sound  came  to  him 
from  the  open  window  of  the  tumble-down  rear 
house  behind  him,  and  shaking  the  lather  from  his 
hands,  he  turned  and  hurried  in  at  the  open  door. 
On  the  broken  lounge  by  the  window  lay  the  frail 
figure  of  a  woman.  Her  face  was  ghastly  pale. 
Her  hand  clutched  her  breast,  and  beneath  it  a 
red  stain  was  spreading  over  the  white  kerchief. 
He  stood  for  a  moment  silent,  his  piglike  little 
eyes  wide  and  staring,  seeing  nothing  but  the  white 
face  and  the  scarlet  stain.  He  groaned,  and  she 
turned  and  saw  him.  She  hid  her  face  quickly 
so  that  it  should  not  tell  him  the  depths  of  her 
suffering. 

"  Never  mind  me,"  she  said.  "  You  must  finish 
them  napkins  or  we'll  lose  the  job." 

The  man  stood  watching  her  a  moment,  breath- 
ing heavily  with  an  asthmatic  wheeze.  His  pale 
blue  eyes  filled  and  a  drop  trickled  down  his  red 
nose.  Then  he  shook  his  head  slowly,  turned  and 
went  out,  and  without  a  word  plunged  once  more 
into  the  lather,  wheezing  and  groaning  like  a  de- 
crepit donkey  engine  as  he  worked. 

Then  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  found  them. 


THE   GREY   DRESS  61 

She  could  not  restrain  a  smile  as  her  eyes  fell  upon 
the  grotesque  "  washerlady,"  but  her  ready  sym- 
pathy soon  detected  the  tragedy  behind  the  appar- 
ent farce.  She  had  soon  found  her  way  to  the 
bedside  of  the  wife  and  was  doing  what  she  could 
to  relieve  her  paroxysms  of  pain.  The  poor 
woman  was  more  anxious  about  her  napkins  than 
about  herself.  She  and  her  husband  lived  upon 
the  income  she  derived  from  her  position  as  wash- 
erwoman for  a  Bowery  restaurant.  It  was  an  in- 
come that  to  the  sick  woman  seemed  truly  munifi- 
cent. She  received  ten  cents  a  hundred  for  the 
napkins  she  washed.  Now  she  would  forfeit  her 
position  if  they  were  not  ready  on  time,  and  she 
would  undoubtedly  have  been  more  at  ease  if  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  deserted  her  to  attend 
to  the  napkins.  Her  one  idea  seemed  to  be  to 
make  her  visitor  appreciate  her  husband's  efforts 
at  the  tubs,  and  the  devotion  he  showed  in  doing 
a  woman's  work  for  the  sake  of  keeping  her  posi- 
tion. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  assured  her  that  the 
napkins  would  be  finished  on  time,  and  she 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  She  was  sure  that  at 
last  she  had  the  ear  of  a  woman  who  would  under- 
stand, and  began  to  tell  all  the  anxieties  and  wor- 
ries that  for  want  of  outlet  had  been  eating  into 
her  lonely  soul.  The  forlorn  pair  had  had  a  son 
who  had  found  riches  in  America  and  had  sent  to 
Germany  for  his  parents.     When  they  arrived  in 


62  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

the  new  land,  he  had  strangely  disappeared.  She 
thought  him  dead  and  she  and  her  husband  had 
ever  since  been  struggling  desperately  for  a  liveli- 
hood, sinking  lower  and  lower  as  the  man  became 
crippled  with  rheumatism  and  helpless  with  asthma. 
The  woman  seemed  to  find  the  relief  that  comes 
from  opening  a  long  festering  wound  as  she  poured 
out  a  story  of  their  despair  and  shame.  Months 
of  sickness  and  poverty  had  been  made  wretched 
and  shameful  by  drinking  and  quarrelling  in  this 
miserable  environment.  At  home  they  had  been 
honest,  industrious  folk;  they  had  done  their  duty 
by  God  and  their  neighbour.  But  here  in  their 
loneliness  and  want  they  had  lost  all  faith  and  all 
hope.  They  drank  to  forget,  and  little  by  little 
they  sank  to  the  level  of  the  degraded  life  about 
them. 

When  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  went  away,  she 
left  behind  her  the  confidence  that  somehow  life 
would  be  better  now.  She  sent  in  food  and  a 
nurse,  but  the  reports  she  received  were  not  en- 
couraging. The  poor  woman  was  in  the  grip  of 
a  deadly  disease  from  which  all  escape  seemed 
hopeless.  Everything  possible  was  done  to  re- 
lieve her,  and  for  a  short  time  she  was  able  to  re- 
turn to  her  tub.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  visited 
her  constantly  and  watched  her  anxiously,  but 
hardly  a  month  had  passed  when  she  found  Mrs. 
Reichert  lying  almost  unconscious  at  her  work  with 
the  red  stain  again  upon  the  kerchief  at  her  breast. 


THE   GREY  DRESS  63 

When  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  spoke  of  the 
hospital,  she  shook  her  head.  In  broken  words 
and  gasps  she  explained  that  she  could  not  leave 
her  home. 

"  Dese  mens!  vot  can  dey  do  by  demselves?  " 
she  asked.  "  Ven  I  leaf  him  my  man  was  like  a 
shicken  mitout  no  head,  already!  "  and  she  smiled 
a  little  in  spite  of  her  pain. 

The  washerwoman  was  deaf  to  all  persuasion. 
That  work  at  the  tub  in  front  of  the  dilapidated 
rear  tenement  was  to  her  a  solemn  trust.  She  felt 
that  there  the  battle  for  her  home  and  her  husband 
and  her  self-respect  must  be  fought  out. 

As  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  later  told  the  story 
of  this  pale  and  wrinkled  old  woman  with  her  torn 
skirts  looped  up  in  her  assault  upon  a  foaming 
wash-tub  full  of  cheap  napkins,  there  was  an  epic 
quality  in  the  account  that  was  truly  Homeric. 
Day  after  day  the  woman  stood  at  her  post.  Day 
after  day  she  rubbed  away,  gritting  her  yellow, 
broken  teeth  that  she  might  not  scream  with  the 
pain,  and  seeking  to  hide  from  her  husband  the 
red  stain  on  her  breast  that  was  always  growing 
larger.  All  the  while  the  terrible  disease  was  eat- 
ing her  life  away,  and  she  knew  that  certain  defeat 
was  hemming  her  in,  a  defeat  that  she  would  not 
acknowledge  till  the  last  drop  of  blood  was  shed. 

It  was  a  few  months  later  that  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  entered  the  dark  little  room  in  the 
rear  tenement  and  found  Mrs.  Reichert  lying  on 


64  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

the  bed  with  a  pile  of  napkins  beside  her  and  sob- 
bing brokenly  because  she  was  too  weak  to  stand. 
"  Now  you  must  let  me  take  care  of  you,"  said  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  I  have  found  a  nice 
home  which  is  not  a  hospital  where  you  will  receive 
the  treatment  you  need,  and  I  have  found  another 
pleasant  home  where  they  will  take  care  of  your 
husband,  so  you  need  not  be  anxious  about  him." 

Because  she  could  no  longer  stand  at  her  post, 
she  suffered  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  to  take  her 
away  to  the  house  of  Sister  Rose.  Sister  Rose 
was  a  fine-spirited  and  self-sacrificing  woman,  who 
had  taken  this  house  in  the  most  wretched  street 
in  the  city,  and  had  transformed  a  spot  of  ugliness 
and  filth  into  a  place  of  comfort  and  charm.  Now 
she  had  opened  its  doors  to  any  of  the  unfortu- 
nates in  the  neighbourhood  upon  whom  the  deadly 
disease  had  laid  its  hand.  There  they  might  stay 
in  pretty  airy  surroundings  with  tenderest  care  un- 
til the  end  came. 

In  this  place  of  rest  the  washerwoman  was  to 
live  through  what  remained  of  her  struggle.  The 
old  man  was  sent  to  a  pleasant  home  not  far  away, 
where  every  day  he  could  work  in  the  flower  gar- 
den as  he  loved  to  do,  or  sit  under  the  trees  and 
smoke  his  pipe.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  visited 
them  both  many  times,  and  her  visits  were  the 
events  to  which  they  looked  forward  through  the 
monotony  of  uneventful  days. 

Through  the  long  months  the  woman  lay  on  her 


THE   GREY  DRESS  65 

bed  of  torture,  waiting  the  end  that  she  knew  must 
come  soon.  She  did  not  complain.  She  was  used 
to  hardship,  and  her  gratitude  for  the  little  serv- 
ices that  were  rendered  her  was  pathetic.  Slowly 
she  grew  feebler  until  at  last  she  saw  that  she  could 
not  endure  many  more  days  of  pain.  She  sent  for 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  Her  visitor  took  the 
sick  woman's  hand,  and  felt  a  half-timid  anxiety  in 
her  eyes,  and  a  nervous  self-consciousness  about  her 
that  was  a  new  and  unexpected  element  in  her 
simple  straightforward  character. 

"  You  wanted  me?  What  can  I  do  for  you?  " 
asked  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

The  sick  woman  seemed  to  be  struggling  for 
courage  to  speak.  "  You  vas  always  so  gut  by 
me.  Vill  you  do  von  ting  yet?  Ven  I'm  gone," 
she  went  on  unsteadily,  "  ven  I'm  tet,  you  know, 
vill  you  tend  to  eferyting  for  me?  Mein  man  iss 
fery  veak.  He  can  do  notings.  Dere  vill  be 
plenty  moneys,  von  mein  insurance.  I  haf  it  al- 
ways paid;  efen  ven  ve  haf  no  food." 

"  Of  course,  I  will  attend  to  everything,"  said 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

But  this  did  not  seem  to  relieve  the  sick  woman. 
Her  nervousness  increased,  and  a  faint  flush  ap- 
peared on  her  pale  cheek. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
gently.     "  What  else  can  I  do?  " 

"  I'm  afrait  you  tink  me  terrible  foolish.  Und 
maybe  it  vas  wrong  already." 


66  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

11  Tell  me  what  it  is,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer. 

The  flush  deepened.  She  looked  down  and 
fingered  the  bedclothes.  "  Veil,"  she  started,  and 
then  broke  off  suddenly  — "  Oh,  it  is  so  foolish,  I 
got  ashame  to  tell!  I  vant  so  much  a  new  dress, 
not  black  and  sad;  I  want  a  grey  dress,  all  pretty 
mit  little  lacings  like  I  see  Miss  Schmidt  haf. 
You  tink  it  iss  bad  already,  ven  you  take  some  in- 
surance money  and  buy  dot  dress?  I  vant  so  long 
a  grey  dress,"  she  went  on  apologetically,  "  efer 
since  we  vas  married  already.  I  safe  moneys  time 
and  time  again.  Efery  time,  my  man  he  took  sick, 
or  he  lose  his  vork,  and  I  must  take  dose  moneys 
for  him.  Now  he  don't  vant  no  moneys.  You 
tink  it  fery  wrong,  I  haf  dot  grey  dress  after  I  vas 
tet?" 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  gasped  with  astonish- 
ment. She  had  thought  she  understood  this  little 
woman,  but  here  was  a  new  bit  of  self-revelation. 
That  within  the  imagination  of  this  forlorn  figure, 
with  its  torn  pinned-up  skirts,  should  have  been 
hidden  a  vision  of  feminine  vanities  seemed  a  para- 
dox too  absurd  to  be  real.  The  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  had  appreciated  the  courage  of  the  woman 
as  she  toiled  at  her  tubs  through  all  those  days  of 
cruel  suffering;  she  had  supplied  her  with  food  and 
the  necessities  of  life,  and  it  had  not  occurred  to 
her  that  there  could  be  in  the  heart  of  this  worn 


THE   GREY   DRESS  67 

struggling  creature  a  desire  for  anything  save  the 
crude  essentials  of  life.  And  yet,  all  the  while 
that  she  toiled  at  the  tubs,  gaunt,  dishevelled, 
ragged,  with  raw,  blistered  hands  and  white, 
drawn  face,  she  had  not  been  merely  one  of  the 
suffering  proletariat,  poverty-stricken  in  imagina- 
tion as  well  as  in  estate.  She  had  been  a  woman, 
who  longed  to  dress  up  in  pretty  clothes  and  be 
admired  by  the  only  man  in  the  world  whose  opin- 
ion mattered.  All  through  those  days  of  cruel 
toil  she  had  actually  been  planning  how  she  could 
save  enough  to  buy  one  pretty  dress.  She  had 
thought  it  all  out, —  how  she  would  put  it  on 
when  her  husband  was  out,  and  smooth  her  hair, 
and  fasten  a  bow  at  her  throat.  When  he  came 
back  how  surprised  he  would  look!  She  would 
see  the  old  light  in  his  eyes  and  perhaps  he  would 
say,  "  Ach  Lena,  wie  schon  bist  du !  "  But  that 
dream  had  never  come  true.  Each  time  when 
the  money  was  almost  saved,  sickness  came  and 
she  was  compelled  to  draw  on  the  little  fund  of 
her  heart's  desire  to  provide  food  and  comforts 
for  her  husband.  The  pathos  of  the  little 
woman's  life  came  with  new  keenness  to  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer,  and  the  impulse  to  smile  died 
away  in  her  heart,  a  sudden  sob  seemed  to  catch 
in  her  throat. 

In  the  meantime,  the  sick  woman  was  looking 
at  her  visitor  anxiously,  and  at  last  the  Lady  of 


68  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

Good  Cheer  found  voice  to  say,  "  Indeed  it  is  right 
for  you  to  have  the  grey  dress,  and  I  promise  you 
that  you  shall  wear  it  as  you  wish." 

A  shy  smile  came  over  the  worn  face,  and  she 
reached  out  her  thin  hand  and  clasped  the  hand  of 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.  "  That  makes  me  so 
happy.     You  understand,  don't  you?" 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  kept  her  promise. 
When  at  last  rest  came  to  the  frail  form  that  had 
been  wounded  and  torn  so  terribly  by  the  shatter- 
ing blows  of  circumstance,  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  folded  the  sad  hands,  cracked  and  worn  by 
hard  toil  and  faithful  service,  over  the  bosom  of 
the  grey  dress.  She  was  surprised  to  see  what  a 
charm  there  was  about  the  frail  little  figure  in  the 
graceful  folds  of  soft  stuff  that  hid  all  the  unlovely 
angular  lines,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  shy  smile 
lingered  about  the  lips  with  the  wistful  question: 
"  Will  he  think  that  I  look  pretty  now?  " 

As  she  lay  there,  a  knock  came  at  the  door. 
The  old  man  stood  on  the  threshold  with  his  hands 
full  of  beautiful  chrysanthemums.  "  How  is  she 
to-day?  "  he  asked.  They  told  him  the  sad  news. 
He  said  brokenly:  "Tod!  Sie  ist  tod!  But 
dese  flowers  —  vot  can  I  do  mit  diesen  Blumen? 
I  haf  planted  dem  de  first  day  as  I  come  to  dot 
home.  She  luf  dem  flowers  so  mooch.  Efery 
day  I  watch  dem,  an'  I  say,  '  Soon  I  bring  dem 


THE   GREY   DRESS  69 

mit  to  her.'  Dey  vas  shoost  for  her.  To-day  dey 
vas  ready,  und  I  bring  dem  quick,  und  now  — " 
and  he  hid  his  face  behind  the  blossoms. 

They  told  him  to  lay  the  flowers  gently  on  the 
folds  of  the  grey  dress,  and  the  old  man  turned 
away  comforted.  "  She  look  so  happy,"  he  said. 
11 1  tink  she  know  I  bring  dem  flowers." 

The  next  week,  when  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
gathered  her  group  of  mothers  as  usual  at  the 
appointed  hour,  one  of  the  women  rose.  "  I  went 
to  see  Mrs.  Reichert  at  Sister  Rose's  house  just 
the  day  before  she  died,"  she  said,  "  and  she  says 
to  me,  '  Will  you  do  something  for  me  when  I'm 
gone,  Mrs.  Mack?  '  says  she;  and  I  says,  *  You'll 
not  be  goin'  for  a  long  time  yet,  Mrs.  Reichert.' 
And  she  says,  *  Yes,  I'm  goin'.  Last  night  I  was 
sleepin'  and  I  heard  some  one  callin'  me.  I  looked 
up  and  —  Oh!  I  can't  tell  you  all  I  seen!  But 
He  was  there;  and  He  says,  "  Come,"  with  His 
hand  stretched  out  to  me  just  like  the  picture. 
And  it's  all  right,  and  I'm  so  happy!  It's  all  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer,'  she  says,  '  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  her,  I  don't  know  what  would  have  become  of 
me !  I've  tried  to  thank  her,  but  I  can't.  I  feel 
so  foolish  when  she's  lookin'  at  me.  I've  been 
thinkin'  and  thinkin'  how  I  can  thank  her,  and  I 
want  you  to  go  to  the  meeting,  and  when  it's  time 
for  the  verses,  you  tell  them  you've  got  a  verse 
to  read  for  me.     I  think  she'd  like  a  verse  better 


7o  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

than  anything,  just  as  if  I  was  there  in  my  place 
at  the  meeting.  And  then/  says  she,  '  you  say  to 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer:  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did 
it  unto  the  least  of  these,  ye  did  it  unto  Me."  '  " 


VIII 

A   LOST   SOUL 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  stood  hesitating  in 
front  of  a  strange  building  on  the  corner  of  Ham- 
ilton Street.  The  building  was  locally  known  as 
"  The  Ship."  This  appellation,  though  appar- 
ently innocent,  had  not  sufficed  to  give  the  house 
a  good  name  in  the  neighbourhood,  for  its  nauti- 
cal associations  were  piratical  rather  than  com- 
mercial. Hitherto  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had 
passed  by  the  house  as  a  place  of  ill  omen,  and  it 
had  taken  a  special  invitation  to  bring  her  to  its 
doors.  The  day  before,  when  she  was  out  on 
her  round  of  calls,  she  had  encountered  a  figure 
so  extraordinary  and  quaint  that  it  seemed  to 
have  been  cut  from  some  old  time  story  book. 
An  ancient  dame,  bent  almost  double  and  lean- 
ing on  a  heavy  cane,  came  hobbling  towards  her, 
and  screwing  her  head  sideways,  had  peered  up 
at  her  and  begged  for  alms.  Her  face  was  deeply 
wrinkled;  a  long  nose  and  projecting  chin  threat- 
ened to  meet  over  her  sunken  mouth  and  thick  lips. 
Her  hair  beneath  the  queer  peaked  bonnet,  was 
snowy  white,  and  with  her  short  skirt,  black  apron 
and  buckled  shoes,  she  was  so  exactly  the  figure  of 
which  every  child  has  dreamed,  that  the  Lady  of 

71 


72  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

Good  Cheer  would  scarcely  have  been  surprised 
if  she  had  flown  away  on  a  broomstick.  The 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  gave  no  alms,  but  asked  the 
old  dame  for  her  address,  and  promised  to  call 
and  see  if  she  could  render  any  service.  When 
she  looked  up  the  number  given  her,  she  found 
herself  in  front  of  "  The  Ship." 

"  The  Ship  "  was  a  most  surprising  building  to 
encounter  in  the  centre  of  a  great  modern  city. 
It  was  situated  on  one  of  the  narrowest,  darkest 
lanes  in  the  ward.  All  that  could  be  seen  of  it 
from  the  street  was  a  low  battered  wall,  with  here 
and  there  a  shattered  window,  and  above  an  inco- 
herent jumble  of  roofs  of  different  lengths  and 
styles,  and  with  a  multitude  of  angles. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  made  an  end  of  hesi- 
tation by  entering  the  low  wooden  door,  and  pass- 
ing through  a  narrow,  crooked  hall  into  a  quaint 
old  court  paved  with  stone.  It  was  doubtless 
from  this  court  that  the  building  derived  its  name, 
though  there  was  a  tradition  that  the  name  was 
due  to  the  fact  that  it  had  been  built  from  the 
timbers  of  a  ship.  A  low  gallery  surrounded  the 
court  at  about  the  height  of  a  man's  head.  It  was 
roofed  over  and  railed  in  like  a  ship's  deck,  and 
upon  it  opened  a  row  of  doors  like  so  many  cabins. 
A  number  of  crooked  companionways  led  up  to 
this  balcony,  and  from  it  on  to  other  galleries  and 
half  floors,  for  only  a  few  square  feet  of  the  ram- 
shackle building  seemed  to  be  on  one  level.     To 


A   LOST    SOUL  73 

get  anywhere,  one  had  to  go  up  two  steps  or  to 
go  down  three  steps.  Inside  the  halls  were  so 
narrow  and  crooked  and  dark  and  the  stairs  so 
winding  and  broken  that  it  seemed  like  a  veritable 
labyrinth.  The  building  was  all  of  wood  and  in 
order  to  increase  the  rent,  one  room  after  another 
had  been  added  on,  like  patches  on  an  old  gar- 
ment. Every  possible  corner  had  been  roofed  in, 
every  available  nook  projected  into  a  room,  and 
every  tiny  room  was  occupied  by  a  large  family. 
The  court  of  the  balconies  or  main  hatch  was  full 
of  ragged  little  imps  and  disreputable  hags,  and 
at  night  screams  and  curses  echoed  from  the  dry 
old  rafters  and  reverberated  in  the  black  winding 
halls,  till  it  seemed  like  some  ancient  hulk  haunted 
by  demons  and  filled  with  tortured  souls. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  looked  about  the 
dark  court-yard  for  some  traces  of  the  old  woman. 
Underneath  the  balcony  was  a  row  of  doors  the 
bottoms  of  which  were  below  the  level  of  the  stone 
court,  and  little  flights  of  broken  steps  led  down 
to  the  cellar  rooms  into  which  they  opened. 
These  rooms  were  all  occupied  by  families  who 
paid  a  cheap  rent  of  only  four  or  five  dollars  a 
month.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  descended 
one  of  these  flights  of  steps  and  knocked  at  the 
door.  She  entered  a  damp  room  dimly  lighted 
by  one  window  beneath  the  balcony.  There  was 
the  usual  necessary  furniture,  a  stove,  a  table, 
two  chairs,  an  old  wardrobe,  and  in  a  tiny  adjoin- 


74  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

ing  closet,  a  bed.  In  a  dilapidated  rocking-chair 
the  old  crone  sat,  bending  forward  and  leaning 
her  folded  hands  on  her  stick.  In  the  dim  light 
little  of  her  face  was  visible  save  the  long,  hooked 
nose  and  projecting  chin,  and  a  glimmer  of  silver 
hair.  She  mumbled  a  greeting  with  toothless 
jaws;  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  felt  more  than 
ever  that  she  was  playing  a  leading  role  in  some 
drama  of  enchantment. 

"How  are  you  getting  on,  Mrs.  Wiggins?" 
she  asked  cheerily. 

"  Not  so  well  now,  Mum.  Things  is  werry 
bad  with  me  now.  You  wouldn't  think  to  look  at 
me  that  my  cousin  is  Lord  Treasurer  of  the  Do- 
minion of  Canada,  would  you?  But  he  is,  and 
he's  werry  good  to  me.  He  sends  me  a  letter 
with  a  check  every  now  and  then.  Here's  one 
now  with  the  crown  and  all  on  it." 

She  handed  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  the  letter 
with  the  insignia  of  a  well  known  family  upon  it. 
The  letter  was  a  kindly  one  expressing  a  desire 
to  do  something  for  a  poor  and  distant  relative 
who  apparently  had  no  real  claim. 

"  How  did  you  get  into  such  trouble,  if  you  be- 
long to  such  a  good  family?  "  asked  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer,  sympathetically. 

The  old  woman  lifted  her  head  a  little,  and 
with  her  little  eyes  blinking  behind  thick  glasses 
and  a  crooked  forefinger  extended,  she  croaked: 
"  Strange  things  happen  in  this  world,"  she  said. 


A   LOST   SOUL  75 

"  Things  you  wouldn't  never  believe,"  and  her 
voice  sunk  to  a  hoarse  whisper. 

Just  at  that  moment  from  the  dark  recesses  of 
the  room  came  a  low  moan.  It  was  so  uncanny 
and  unexpected  that  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
started  involuntarily. 

"  What  is  that?  "  she  cried. 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing,"  said  the  old  woman.  "  I 
often  hear  that.  Yes,  yes,  there's  a  lot  o'  trouble 
in  this  world,  and  them  that's  rich  never  knows 
how  they'll  end." 

Just  then  came  another  groan  so  forlorn  and  so 
desperate  that  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  sprang 
to  her  feet. 

"  There  is  something  in  this  room !  "  she  cried. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  woman  cautiously,  "  per- 
haps there  is." 

The  moan  came  again,  this  time  unmistakable: 
"  I'm  lost!     I'm  lost!  "  it  wailed. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  stepped  swiftly  to- 
ward the  wardrobe  in  the  dark  corner.  The  tall 
chest  was  so  narrow  it  seemed  impossible  that  any 
human  being  could  be  hiding  there.  She  seized 
the  handle  of  the  wardrobe  door,  and  was  about 
to  throw  it  wide  open,  when  suddenly  some  unseen 
force  snatched  the  door  from  her  grasp  and  closed 
it  with  a  bang. 

She  felt  a  real  thrill  of  horror.  To  feel  a  door 
torn  from  one's  hands  by  an  unknown  agency  is 
enough  to  make  the  flesh  creep.     The  Lady  of 


76  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

Good  Cheer  was  not  superstitious,  and  as  she 
stood  there  in  the  black  corner,  ghostly  fright  soon 
changed  to  a  more  serious  fear.  Was  this  old 
crone  really  concealing  some  crime  in  her  dark  cel- 
lar? What  wretched  creature  was  imprisoned 
here  in  the  darkness?  All  manner  of  horrible 
possibilities  rose  before  her  as  she  struggled  with 
the  door,  while  the  old  woman  still  rocked  on  and 
mumbled.  The  chill  of  the  damp  cellar  seemed 
to  creep  over  her  as  she  felt  the  door  resist  her 
renewed  effort  to  fling  it  open.  It  seemed  as  if 
some  blood-curdling  nightmare  were  making  itself 
real  before  her  eyes.  What  awful  Thing  was 
behind  that  door?  It  scarcely  seemed  possible 
that  it  was  human.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
had  no  place  in  her  mind  for  superstitious  fears, 
and  refused  to  be  daunted  by  hideous  realities. 
She  gave  a  final  tug  at  the  door.  It  gave  way, 
and  she  sprang  back  in  sudden  horror.  There, 
all  huddled  in  a  heap  in  the  dark  bottom  of  the 
wardrobe,  she  could  just  distinguish  a  human  body, 
unclothed,  smeared  with  dirt  and  partly  covered 
by  long  tangled  hair.  But  before  she  could  cry 
out,  the  body,  wedged  in  the  narrow  space,  moved 
and  seemed  about  to  sit  up.  She  saw  under  the 
tangle  of  hair  the  glint  of  two  eyes  fixed  upon  her, 
and  she  heard  a  low,  moaning  wail.  "  Let  me 
alone !  "  the  Thing  cried.     "  I'm  lost !  " 

It  took  but  a  moment  for  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  to  recover  from  the  shock  of  her  discovery, 


A   LOST   SOUL  77 

and  to  realise  that  this  was  no  hallucination  but  a 
tragic  reality,  a  human  creature  in  distress.  She 
turned  to  the  old  woman  in  indignation.  "  What 
is  this?  "  she  asked. 

"  Hush !  "  answered  the  woman  in  a  whisper. 
"  It's  my  sister,  Violet.  She's  not  right  here," 
and  she  pointed  to  her  head.  "  Come  away:  you 
can't  do  anything.  She  thinks  she's  done  wrong, 
and  that  her  soul  is  lost,  poor  thing !  " 

The  door  was  suddenly  shut  again,  and  again 
that  wail  sounded:  "  I'm  lost!  I'm  lost!  " 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  knelt  by  the  wardrobe 
door,  and  tried  to  calm  the  wretched  creature 
within.  As  a  mother  would  speak  to  a  terrified 
child,  she  sought  to  soothe  the  pain  of  the  tortured 
soul.  Her  only  answer  was  a  broken,  hopeless 
sob.  The  poor  brain  was  too  muddled  to  grasp 
the  meaning  of  her  words.  It  only  understood 
in  some  vague  way  the  thrill  of  sympathy  in  the 
voice,  and  felt  that  here  was  a  friend. 

After  a  time  the  nurse,  whom  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  sent  in  to  look  after  the  unfortunate 
Violet,  succeeded  in  placing  the  woman  in  a  home 
where  she  received  proper  care.  Mrs.  Wiggins 
bitterly  resented  all  attempts  to  place  her  in  an 
Old  Ladies'  Home,  and  "  stuck  to  '  The  Ship  '  " 
with  true  Anglo-Saxon  stubbornness.  Violet 
slowly  regained  her  mind,  but  the  old  lady  died  in 
the  damp,  dirty  corner  of  the  house  of  many  ga- 
bles and  angles  and  windings  that  had  been  so  ap- 


78  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

propriate  a  setting  for  her  while  she  lived. 
"  The  Ship  "  itself  was  finally  torn  down.  The 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  many  times  recalled  the  shock 
of  horror  she  received  on  her  first  visit  to  the 
place,  as  she  watched  the  queer  courts  and  ancient 
roofs  give  way  before  a  huge  modern  tenement, 
whose  cheaply  ornamented  walls  of  yellow  brick 
were  hideous  enough  to  drive  the  old-style  hob- 
goblins from  the  neighbourhood  forever. 


IX 

THE  LOST  BATTLE 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  and  the  minister  with 
several  members  of  the  choir  were  scaling  the  dark 
stairway  of  a  Catherine  Street  tenement. 

"  I  hope  Mr.  Schweizer  won't  make  any  trou- 
ble," she  said.  "  He  hates  the  church  and  all 
religious  services,  but  Mrs.  Schweizer  was  so  anx- 
ious to  have  a  service  before  her  little  boy  was  bur- 
ied that  I  told  her  we  would  come.  Mr.  Schweizer 
has  been  drinking  and  I  am  afraid  he  may  be  dis- 
agreeable. He  treats  her  terribly.  I  know  he 
struck  her  only  the  other  day." 

They  knocked  at  a  door  on  the  third  floor  and 
entered  a  pretty  little  apartment  where  a  number 
of  people  were  assembled.  They  were  grouped 
about  a  table,  on  which  lay  a  tiny  coffin  banked 
with  flowers.  As  they  entered  a  short  man  with 
a  heavy  jaw  and  black  moustache  stepped  forward. 

"What's  this?"  he  cried  thickly.  "I  don't 
want  none  of  your  psalm-singing  in  here!  Get 
out,  all  of  you !  " 

"  Oh,  Fritz!  "  called  a  soft  voice  from  behind, 
11  don't  talk  like  that!  I  asked  them  to  come.  I 
won't  let  little  Henry  be  carried  away  and  buried 
without    a   prayer  —  it's    heathen.     Come    now! 

79 


80  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

You've  had  your  way  in  everything.     Let  me  do 
what  I  want  with  my  own  child." 

A  slender,  graceful  woman,  scarce  more  than  a 
girl,  stepped  up  beside  him.  There  was  a  deli- 
cate piquancy  about  the  face  beneath  its  heavy 
black  veil  that  made  one  start  and  wonder  if  per- 
haps some  fair  flower  from  the  Court  of  Ver- 
sailles had  stepped  upon  a  magic  carpet  and  been 
carried  away  and  hidden  in  this  tenement.  There 
was  an  exquisite  daintiness  about  her,  in  the  poise 
of  her  head,  in  the  shell  pink  colouring  of  her 
cheek,  in  the  coquettish  coil  of  her  gold-brown 
hair,  and  in  the  delicate  chiseling  of  her  red  lips, 
that  made  her  seem  most  out  of  place  here  among 
the  tenements.  The  refinement  of  her  appear- 
ance was  startlingly  emphasised  as  she  stood  beside 
the  intoxicated  man  with  his  sodden  features,  and 
tried  to  smother  his  raucous  curses  with  her  swift 
words.  It  was  a  strange  conflict,  that  of  this  frag- 
ile and  delicate  girl  mother  with  the  drunken 
brute  of  a  father  over  the  tiny  baby  form  that  lay 
there  embowered  in  roses.  The  man  was  deaf  to 
the  sacred  appeal  of  the  moment  and  insensible  to 
common  decency,  but  she  won  the  day.  There 
was  a  compelling  nobility  about  her  which  even  he 
could  not  resist,  and  before  he  knew  it,  he  found 
himself  shifted  dexterously  to  the  background, 
while  she  was  saying  to  the  minister:  "Don't 
mind  him!  He  doesn't  know  what  he  is  saying. 
I'm  sorry  he  was  so  rude." 


THE    LOST   BATTLE  81 

In  another  moment  she  had  pushed  her  husband 
gently  into  a  seat  where  he  remained  muttering 
angrily  with  half-glazed  eyes.  Then  she  came 
forward  to  greet  her  guests.  "  Come  right  in !  n 
she  said.  "  We're  all  ready  for  the  service.  It 
was  so  good  of  you  to  come." 

The  little  group  from  the  church  entered  and 
stood  together  around  the  small  white  coffin  on 
its  bed  of  flowers.  As  they  sang  the  familiar 
hymns,  the  young  mother  held  in  her  lap  her  other 
child,  a  boy  of  three,  and  sobbed  softly,  while  in 
the  distance  the  muttered  curses  of  her  husband 
sounded  a  low,  growling  accompaniment.  As  the 
minister  started  to  read  the  solemn  words  of  the 
funeral  service,  he  was  startled  by  a  shout  and  a 
sudden  commotion,  and  the  mother  gave  a  faint 
cry  as  she  saw  her  husband  stagger  to  his  feet. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  going  to  stay  and  listen  to  that 
stuff !  "  cried  the  man  with  a  snarl,  and  he  flung 
out  of  the  room,  slamming  the  door  with  a  bang. 

The  service  ended  with  another  hymn,  and 
there  was  no  further  interruption.  The  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  stopped  afterward  to  say  what  she 
could  to  comfort  Mrs.  Schweizer.  It  was  the 
first  death  in  the  little  family  circle,  and  the  young 
wife  was  broken-hearted  by  her  husband's  be- 
haviour. 

"  I  don't  know  what  we  shall  do,"  she  said. 
11  He  does  nothing  but  drink  all  the  time.  He 
can't  do  any  work.     He's  really  sick,  too,  and 


82  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

that's  one  reason  he  drinks.  He  knows  it's  kill- 
ing him,  but  he  says  he  can't  stop.  Can't  you 
get  Mr.  Day  to  come  in  and  talk  to  him?  Per- 
haps he  could  get  him  to  go  away  to  some  cure. 
We  can't  go  on  living  like  this.  It's  just  killing 
me. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  gave  her  the  sympa- 
thy she  needed,  and  assured  her  that  Mr.  Day, 
the  assistant  minister,  would  see  her  husband  and 
make  some  arrangement  for  his  welfare.  The 
young  wife  bade  her  good-bye  with  many  expres- 
sions of  gratitude,  and  went  back  to  her  dead 
child. 

Some  months  later  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
entered  the  tunnel  that  led  beneath  one  of  the  an- 
cient houses  of  Cherry  Hill.  She  passed  through 
a  long  dark  passage,  and  came  out  in  a  narrow 
court  surrounded  by  wretched  tumbledown  tene- 
ments. Six  of  these  miserable  habitations,  each 
more  forlorn  than  the  last,  opened  on  the  little 
court.  A  crowd  of  ragged  little  Italians  were 
playing  in  the  yard,  a  drunken  Irishman  lay  on 
one  of  the  door  steps,  and  several  slatternly  fig- 
ures could  be  seen  watching  her  from  doorway  and 
window.  On  the  lines  across  the  yard  a  startling 
variety  of  clothing  was  hung  out  to  dry.  Gay 
Italian  scarfs,  torn  white  skirts,  red  petticoats, 
yellow  comfortables  were  arrayed  together  on  one 
line,  waving  like  the  flags  of  all  nations  spread  to 
catch  the  breeze. 


THE    LOST   BATTLE  83 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  turned  into  the  most 
wretched  barracks  of  them  all.  She  climbed  the 
broken  front  steps  and  entered  a  hall  redolent  of 
garlic  and  stale  macaroni,  and  oppressive  in  the 
heat  of  summer  with  the  sickening  odours  of  de- 
cay. She  held  her  breath  as  she  passed  by  open 
doors.  Through  one  door  she  could  see  a  rag- 
ged, drunken  Irishman  who  was  shouting  curses 
and  shaking  his  fist  at  a  dirty  wife.  Another 
door  revealed  a  room  crowded  with  Italians  of  all 
sizes  and  ages,  all  of  them  unspeakably  dirty  and 
squalid  in  appearance.  She  knocked  at  the  door 
at  the  back,  and  a  clear  sweet  voice  called,  "  Come 
in."  She  entered  and  found  herself  in  a  wretched 
little  room  with  bare,  wooden  walls  and  floor  and  a 
low,  uneven  ceiling.  The  furniture  in  the  room 
was  neat  and  pretty,  however:  a  large  bed  covered 
with  a  white  bedspread,  a  polished  stove,  a  hand- 
some table  and  a  few  well-made  chairs.  In  the 
middle  of  the  floor  knelt  Mrs.  Schweizer,  a  full 
length  apron  drawn  over  her  neat  black  skirt. 
Her  sleeves  were  rolled  up,  showing  her  beautiful 
white  arms,  and  she  had  a  scrubbing  brush  in  her 
hand  and  a  pail  of  suds  at  her  side.  Her  cheeks 
were  flushed,  and  a  lock  of  her  shining  chestnut 
hair  had  escaped  from  its  smooth  coils  and  hung  in 
a  charmingly  defiant  little  curl  over  her  white  neck. 
She  looked  up  at  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  with 
consternation  in  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  excuse  me!"  she  said,  trying  to  master 


84  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

the  vagrant  lock.  "  I  look  like  a  perfect  fright.  I 
had  no  idea  it  was  you." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  assured  her  that  she 
had  never  looked  better,  but  the  little  woman  con- 
tinued: "  You  see,  I'm  just  back  from  work  and  I 
have  to  pitch  in  and  clean  up,  for  the  house  is  a 
sight  after  Willie  has  been  playing  around  all  day. 
I've  got  to  wash  him  up  next,"  she  added,  with  a 
glance  at  a  pretty  little  boy,  whose  neat  dress 
showed  traces  of  the  day's  vigorous  campaign  for 
amusement. 

"  Do  you  leave  him  here  all  day?  "  asked  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  I  have  to,  you  see !  "  Mrs.  Schweizer  an- 
swered. "  I'm  working  in  a  restaurant  in  Park 
Row,  and  it's  hard  work.  I  run  in  at  noon  for  a 
minute  to  give  him  his  lunch  and  see  how  he's  get- 
ting on,  and  then  I  come  back  at  night  and  clean 
up  and  get  him  his  supper.  It's  terribly  hard  to 
leave  him  all  day  in  this  place.  The  people  are 
awfully  rough.  I'm  frightened  about  him  all  day 
long,  and  every  night  I  come  home  with  my  heart 
in  my  mouth  for  fear  I'll  find  him  sick  or  dead 
or  something  —  but  what  can  I  do?" 

"What  do  you  hear  from  Mr.  Schweizer?" 

11  Oh,  he's  getting  on  splendidly  out  in  that 
Home  in  Colorado.  He's  stopped  drinking  en- 
tirely and  he's  getting  over  the  consumption." 

"  That  is  splendid.  I  am  so  glad,"  said  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer.     "  But  I'm  afraid  this  work 


THE    LOST    BATTLE  85 

is  too  hard  for  you.  It  is  too  much  to  work  all 
day  and  look  out  for  your  house  too." 

"  It  is  hard.  I  have  to  stand  all  day  washing 
dishes,  and  some  of  these  awfully  hot  days  it  was 
so  close  in  there  next  the  stove,  I  thought  I  should 
faint.  I  am  so  tired  at  night,  I  can  hardly  get 
home.     You  see,  I'm  not  used  to  work  like  that." 

Her  deep  brown  eyes  were  full  of  tears  now, 
and  her  delicate  lips  quivered. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  back  to  your  father  and 
mother  till  Mr.  Schweizer  comes  home,  or  at  least 
ask  them  for  help?  " 

The  girl  was  on  her  feet  now  and  the  graceful 
little  head  was  held  high. 

"  No,  never!"  she  said  and  her  eyes  flashed 
through  her  tears.  "  You  see,  they  forbade  me  to 
marry,  and  told  me  I'd  get  into  trouble.  No,  I've 
made  my  bed,  and  I've  got  to  lie  in  it  now." 

She  looked  so  like  the  Princess  of  the  Fairy 
Tales  in  misfortune  as  she  stood  there  with  her 
flushed  and  tear-stained  cheeks,  her  proud  head 
held  high,  defying  her  fate,  that  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  was  uncertain  whether  to  cry  or  to 
applaud. 

"  But  can  you  make  it  go,  even  so?  "  she  asked. 

11  Yes.  They  give  me  six  dollars  a  week  at  the 
restaurant,  and  my  rent  is  only  five  dollars  a 
month  here.  And  they  give  me  some  food  at  the 
restaurant  too.  I  always  have  some  cakes  to 
bring  home  to  Willie." 


86  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

"  Do  they  treat  you  well  there?"  asked  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  Oh,  some  of  them  are  pretty  rough,  but  the 
boss  —  well,  he  treats  me  almost  too  well,"  she 
said,  and  her  delicate  cheek  flushed  suddenly  a 
deeper  scarlet.  "  Oh,"  she  cried  suddenly,  "  do 
you  know  how  hard  it  is  to  stick  it  out  and  do 
right,  when  I  could  have  anything  I  want  for  my- 
self and  the  boy,  if  I  — "  she  burst  suddenly  into 
tears.  "  Sometimes  I  think  I'll  go  mad,"  she 
said.  "  I  am  so  worried  about  Willie,  and  the 
work  is  so  hard,  I  think  I'll  drop  dead  before  I 
get  back.  And  then  to  come  back  to  this  place, 
with  all  these  awful  people  around — "  She 
shuddered  convulsively. 

"  Mrs.  Schweizer,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer,  "  you're  the  bravest  woman  I  know.  I'm 
proud  to  have  you  as  my  friend  and  to  take  your 
hand.  I  do  know  just  how  hard  a  fight  it  is,  and 
I'm  afraid  I  shouldn't  be  half  as  brave  as  you  are. 
I  shall  think  of  you  every  day,  and  if  ever  you 
need  me,  if  ever  I  can  be  of  the  least  help,  I'll  come 
to  you  no  matter  what  I  am  doing.  You'll  call 
on  me,  won't  you?  It  would  make  me  so  happy 
to  do  even  a  little  to  help." 

The  tears  had  ceased  now.  She  stood  very 
quiet  and  pale  with  her  head  still  proudly  erect. 

"  There's  nothing  you  or  any  one  else  can  do. 
I've  made  a  mistake  with  my  life  and  I've  got  to 
work  it  out,  all  alone,  no  matter  how  hard  it  is. 


THE   LOST   BATTLE  87 

I  can  do  it,  I  know,  only  sometimes  I  get  dis- 
couraged. When  they  are  at  you  all  the  time, — 
when  you  think  how  easy  it  might  be, —  well,  it's 
hard  sometimes." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  went  away  saddened 
and  anxious.  How  long  could  a  delicate  frame 
stand  the  test  of  hard  labour,  cruel  anxiety,  foul 
surroundings,  and  the  constant  pressure  of  insidi- 
ous temptation? 

A  year  passed,  and  it  was  time  for  Mr. 
Schweizer  to  return.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
rejoiced  that  the  long  period  of  cruel  toil  and 
dragging  weeks  was  over.  Mrs.  Schweizer  had 
moved,  and  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  went  in  to 
congratulate  her  on  the  good  news.  As  she 
knocked  at  the  door,  a  well  dressed  man  opened 
it  arid  came  out.  She  entered  and  found  herself 
in  a  pleasant,  prettily  furnished  apartment,  a 
marked  contrast  to  the  wretched  room  in  Cherry 
Street.  A  can  of  beer  and  two  empty  glasses 
stood  on  the  table.  Mrs.  Schweizer  rose  to  meet 
her.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  noticed  that  she 
wore  a  striking  dress  with  brilliant  dashes  of  red 
about  it,  and  she  felt  the  greeting  die  away  on  her 
lips  as  she  looked  at  the  woman  before  her.  The 
delicate  face  had  grown  cold  and  hard.  An  in- 
scrutable veil  seemed  to  have  been  drawn  over  the 
soft,  brown  eyes.  The  exquisite  colour  of  the 
cheek  had  changed  to  a  harsh  flush,  and  the  lips 
had  coarse  lines  about  them.    The  Lady  of  Good 


88  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

Cheer  felt  a  false  timbre,  a  cold  defiance,  in  the 
voice  that  she  remembered  as  one  of  unusual  sweet- 
ness. She  could  only  murmur  a  few  common- 
places in  response  to  the  woman's  greeting;  she 
wanted  to  escape  and  indulge  in  an  old  fashioned 
cry.  She  made  a  hurried  excuse  and  turned  away, 
and  all  the  way  home  the  hot  tears  stung  her  eye- 
lids and  a  sob  was  gripping  at  her  throat.  "  I 
might  have  done  no  better  in  her  place,"  she  kept 
thinking.  "  But  if  I  could  only  have  helped  her 
a  little  more  —  only  one  month  more.  Now  it  is 
too  late." 


X 

A  CRUEL  DILEMMA 

There  is  a  spirit  of  neighbourliness  even  in  the 
huge  tenement  barracks  where  physical  necessity 
rubs  men's  noses  together  in  such  close  contact 
that  the  instinct  of  their  souls  is  to  retire  in  sheer 
revulsion  to  the  greatest  possible  distance  from  one 
another.  It  was  this  spirit  which  called  the  at- 
tention of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  to  the  "  lady 
up  on  the  top  floor  "  who  was  "  terrible  sick,  and 
didn't  have  no  one  so  much  as  to  pass  the  time  o' 
day  with  her  while  her  man  was  away  to  work." 
This  was  the  top  floor  of  a  tenement  which  was 
perhaps  the  most  wretched  of  the  many  crowded 
tenements  in  the  "  Long  Block."  It  provided 
apartments  consisting  of  a  kitchen  and  dark  bed- 
room for  a  cheap  rent,  and  in  its  dark  hall  one  was 
continually  bumping  into  the  most  unsavoury  and 
disreputable  representatives  of  every  nation. 

In  response  to  the  spirit  of  neighbourliness  of 
the  "  lady  "  on  the  first  floor,  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  climbed  to  the  top  story  and  knocked  at  the 
left  hand  door  in  front.  Her  knock  was  an- 
swered by  a  deep  voice  that  sounded  more  like  a 
hail  from  a  fishing  smack  off  the  Labrador  coast, 
than  a  summons  to  enter  a  Cherry  Street  tenement. 

89 


90  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

She  was  greeted,  as  she  entered,  by  a  stout, 
quaint  figure  that  spoke  of  oilskins  and  sou'wester 
and  spray-drenched  decks  and  wriggling  cod. 
His  weather-beaten  face  was  seamed  with  many  a 
kindly  wrinkle.  He  wore  a  white  goatee,  and  his 
hair  was  grey  and  worn  away  from  his  forehead, 
but  he  had  a  rugged  vigour,  a  quick  energetic  way 
of  moving,  and  a  forceful  method  of  speech  that 
promised  for  many  years  to  come,  the  capacity  for 
hard  labour.  He  had  been  sitting  beside  a  bed 
upon  which  a  woman  was  lying.  They  had  moved 
the  bed  out  from  trie  dark  bedroom,  where  there 
was  no  light  and  air,  and  placed  it  beside  the  win- 
dow in  the  front  room.  The  woman  was  very 
ill.  Her  thin  face  was  white  and  drawn,  save 
when  an  unnatural  flush  burned  on  her  cheek.  She 
seemed  to  be  gasping  for  breath. 

"  Oh,  you're  the  lady  from  the  church,"  said  the 
man  with  a  strong  New  England  twang.  "  The 
old  woman's  pretty  bad.  Don't  ye  think  so? 
Eh?" 

"  She  does  look  very  sick,"  said  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer.  "  I  see  you've  been  taking  good 
care  of  her.  It's  good  that  you  could  get  off  from 
work  to  be  with  her." 

"  Well,  I  dunno  as  it  is,  an'  I  dunno  as  it  is/9 
said  the  old  man.  "  That's  as  you  looks  at  it. 
There  ain't  much  money  fallin'  down  the  chimbly 
while  I  set  here.  But  somehow  I  can't  go  off  t' 
work  with  her  lyin'  here  and  gaspin'.     I  went  down 


A   CRUEL   DILEMMA  91 

to  the  ship  and  started  in  unloading  but  I  got  t' 
thinkin'  o'  her  lyin'  up  here  all  alone  and  gaspin' 
fer  breath,  and  I  had  ter  knock  off.  Couldn't 
stand  it,  ye  know." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  went  over  to  the  bed- 
side and  spoke  her  sympathy,  as  she  patted  the  pil- 
low and  gave  to  the  bed  the  little  touches  of  com- 
fort which  a  woman's  hand  knows  instinctively. 
Then  she  sat  down,  leaning  one  elbow  upon  the 
bed,  and  bending  over  to  catch  the  laboured  speech 
of  the  sick  woman.  It  was  not  the  words  which 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  brought  to  her  sick 
that  comforted  them.  She  gave  them  herself, — 
her  strength  of  will,  her  courage  and  faith,  her 
peace  of  mind.  The  words  were  commonplace 
enough,  but  a  strong  will  spoke  through  them, 
and  there  was  a  light  of  divine  sympathy  in  her 
eyes,  and  an  assurance  of  divine  restfulness  in  ev- 
ery gesture  and  tone,  that  brought  to  the  pain- 
racked  woman  the  vision  of  overshadowing  wings 
of  love. 

When  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  turned  to  go, 
the  old  man  followed  her  into  the  hall. 

"  She  looks  wretchedly  feeble,"  she  said. 
"  What  does  she  get  to  eat?" 

"Wall,  she  ain't  sick  from  over  feedin',"  the 
old  man  jerked  out,  with  a  quick  sideways  glance 
from  beneath  his  bushy  eyebrows. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  yourself  haven't  had  enough 
to  eat  while  you  have  been  away  from  work," 


92  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  looking  at  him 
closely. 

"  Wall,"  said  the  old  man  shamefacedly  and 
hanging  his  head.  "  I  hate  to  own  it  an'  I'd  never 
speak  for  meself,  but  we  ain't  had  a  scrap  of  vit- 
tles  in  the  house  for  two  days,  and  I'm  that  weak 
I  couldn't  do  no  work  if  I  tried.  But  what  kin  I 
do,"  he  went  on  with  a  scowl  of  perplexity  that 
overshadowed  his  keen  blue  eyes.  "  She  mought 
die  any  minute,  an'  I  can't  leave  her  lyin'  here  all 
alone,  coughin'  and  gaspin',  with  no  one  but  them 
dirty  drunken  Irish  around.  I  can't  do  it,  it's  no 
use  o'  talkin' ;  an'  if  I  don't  work,  there's  no  money 
comin'  in,  and  nawthin'  ter  eat." 

A  tear  came  unbidden,  and  trickled  slowly  down 
the  weather-beaten  cheek.  He  drew  the  back  of 
his  hand  roughly  across  his  eyes.  "  I'd  orter  be 
ashamed  o'  meself,"  he  said,  "  but  I'm  plum  dis- 
couraged. It  don't  seem  hardly  right  somehow. 
I've  been  a  good  livin'  man,  and  I've  allers  done 
me  best,  an'  me  an'  her  has  lived  together  nigh 
onter  forty  years,  and  now  I've  either  got  ter  leave 
her  ter  suffer  and  die  all  alone,  or  else  I've  got  ter 
set  still  here  an'  see  her  starve  ter  death.  I  was 
readin'  in  the  papers  yesterday  as  how  one  o'  them 
rich  fellers  on  Fifth  Avenue  spent  ten  thousand 
dollars  just  fer  posies  fer  his  dinner  party,  an'  if 
I  had  just  ten  dollars,  it'd  save  the  old  woman 
from  starvin'.  An'  I  was  readin'  how  one  o' 
them  rich  women  spent  hundreds  o'  dollars  fittin' 


A   CRUEL   DILEMMA  93 

out  a  puppy  dog.  I've  alters  been  a  hard  workin' 
man  and  never  shirked  me  work,  an'  it  don't  seem 
right.  I  s'pose  you  think  there's  a  God,  but  it 
don't  seem  no  use  ter  pray,  ner  nothin'." 

A  sudden  fierce  light  came  into  his  keen  eyes. 
"  Sometimes  when  I  see  her  lyin'  there  an'  starv- 
in'  so  patient  like,  I  feel's  if  I'd  like  ter  get  a  gun 
and  go  up  an'  shoot  some  o'  them  rich  fellers,  and 
take  enough  to  keep  the  old  woman  alive.  What 
do  they  care  fer  us  folks?  They  ain't  any  o'  them 
worked  harder'n  I  have.  It  ain't  right,  I  tell  yer, 
it  ain't  right." 

It  was  a  hard  problem  to  solve.  The  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  felt  a  fierce  anger  spring  up  in  her 
breast.  It  seemed  as  if  some  cruel  Demon  con- 
trolled the  economic  conditions  of  the  world,  gath- 
ering where  he  had  not  strewn,  leaving  the  faithful 
workers  to  starve  in  anguish,  while  the  indo- 
lent and  selfish  flourished.  But  she  only  said:  "  It 
is  terrible  indeed,  but  I  believe  God  has  sent  me 
to  help  you,  and  I  will  see  that  your  wife  gets  the 
care  and  food  she  needs.  I  will  send  some  one  in 
to  sit  with  her  while  you  are  away.  Where  do  you 
work?     Is  it  far  away?  " 

"  I'm  workin'  'long  shore  now.  I  uster  have  a 
ship  oncet,  but  I  had  bad  luck  and  lost  her  in  a 
storm,  and  since  then  I've  had  to  turn  to  and  work 
with  them  drunken  Irish  loafers  on  the  dock." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  reached  out  and  took 
his  gnarled  and  weather-beaten  hand  in  her  own 


94  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

slender  one,  and  spoke  with  quiet  positiveness: 
"  It  does  seem  as  if  the  whole  world  was  against 
you,  and  I  don't  blame  you  a  bit  for  feeling  as  you 
do.  But  behind  all  that  seems  so  cruel  and  hard 
is  a  greater  purpose  and  a  greater  love  than  we 
can  understand.  Don't  doubt  that.  God  is  car- 
ing for  you  even  now,  and  in  the  end  he  will  set 
things  right." 

The  strength  of  her  conviction  spoke  in  every 
word,  and  her  deep  set  eyes  had  in  them  a  com- 
pelling intensity.  The  man  could  not  but  feel  and 
believe  that  those  eyes  saw  what  was  hidden  to 
him. 

"Wall,  I  hope  so!"  he  said.  "  I've  alius 
b'lieved  in  God,  an'  down  in  me  old  home  in  Maine 
I  uster  go  to  church,  but  in  this  place  it  seems  as  if 
there  wa'n't  no  God." 

He  stood  silent  a  moment,  his  weatherbeaten 
features  working  as  he  sought  to  keep  back  the 
tears.  He  turned  to  go  back  to  his  place  beside 
the  dying  woman,  and  said  slowly:  "  But  it  ain't 
in  reason  the  Lord  sh'd  git  a  man  inter  sich  a  fix 
that  he's  got  ter  leave  his  wife  to  die  alone  like  a 
dog,  or  else  set  by  her  and  starve.  Mebbe  the 
Lord  did  send  ye  ter  fix  things  up  —  mebbe  He 
did.     I'm  bound  ter  b'lieve  He  did." 


XI 

A    DOMESTIC    CRISIS 

The  little  home  into  which  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  had  just  made  an  entrance  was  a  well  fur- 
nished one  on  the  top  story  of  a  queer  three  cor- 
nered tenement  in  New  Chambers  Street.  It  was 
never  uncomfortably  immaculate,  but  there  was 
about  it  ordinarily  an  atmosphere  of  geniality  and 
good  cheer.  This  agreeable  atmosphere  was  cre- 
ated chiefly  by  the  activity  of  the  mistress,  a  pretty 
and  capable  little  lady  from  Paris  whose  bright 
dark  eyes,  smooth  red  cheeks,  and  expressive  little 
mouth  with  full  red  lips  were  sufficiently  attractive 
to  make  one  overlook  the  fact  that  her  figure  was 
too  much  inclined  to  embonpoint  to  meet  the  sylph- 
like standards  of  Parisian  beauty.  Now,  how- 
ever, the  busy  housekeeper  had  been  reduced  to 
helplessness  by  the  cruel  necessities  of  motherhood. 
She  lay  weak  and  sick  in  the  bedroom,  and  her 
large  family  of  children,  who  possessed  the  full 
measure  of  Gallic  vivacity  plus  the  exhilaration  of 
the  atmosphere  of  the  Land  of  the  Free,  had 
played  leap  frog  with  the  furniture,  and  left  dishes 
and  kitchen  utensils  in  picturesque  confusion.  Her 
husband,  a  short  stolid  little  Frenchman,  with  a 
round  handsome  face,  and  sad  dark  eyes,  sat  de- 

95 


96  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

jectedly  by  the  kitchen  table  with  his  head  sunk 
on  his  breast,  his  long  dark  hair  mussed  distract- 
edly on  his  forehead.  He  scarcely  looked  up  at 
the  greeting  of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  Ah,  vat  sail  I  do?  "  he  said.  "  I  cannot  get  ze 
work.  Zey  want  men  no  more  to  make  ze  slippers 
by  ze  hand.  Zey  make  zem  all  by  ze  machine, 
and  ze  cheeldren  have  nossing  to  eat,  and  now  here 
ees  come  anosser  bebe!  " 

It  was  indeed  a  sad  situation  for  the  Le  Boutil- 
liers.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  been  called 
into  see  them  some  months  before  during  the  sick- 
ness of  a  little  girl.  The  child  had  died  in  spite 
of  all  that  could  be  done,  but  by  her  constant,  sym- 
pathetic and  watchful  care  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  had  completely  won  the  affection  of  these 
warmhearted  foreigners,  who  felt  themselves  des- 
perately alone  in  the  strange  city.  Le  Boutillier 
was  a  skilled  workman,  who  was  very  clever  at 
making  slippers  and  shoes  by  hand,  but  lately  ma- 
chines had  been  introduced  which  threw  him  and 
his  fellow  workmen  entirely  out  of  employment. 
If  he  did  get  any  work  he  had  to  compete  with  the 
machine-made  product,  and  his  best  efforts  would 
not  bring  in  more  than  four  dollars  a  week. 

Mrs.  Le  Boutillier  was  a  marvel  as  a  house- 
keeper. She  had  won  a  prize  at  the  church  for 
the  most  skilful  use  of  a  dollar  in  the  purchase 
of  food.  The  housekeepers  from  uptown  who 
saw  the  results  of  her  expenditure  were  amazed 


A   DOMESTIC   CRISIS  97 

at  the  completeness  and  the  variety  of  her  exhibi- 
tion. Nothing  was  forgotten,  not  even  the  pep- 
per and  vinegar  and  oil  for  the  salad  dressing.  It 
was  a  perfectly  balanced  meal  fit  for  any  gourmet, 
and  remarkable  for  its  contrast  with  the  purchases 
of  the  Irish  housekeepers,  who  spent  half  the  dol- 
lar on  tea  and  the  rest  on  a  poor  piece  of  meat, 
and  of  the  Scotch,  who  bought  with  the  dollar 
enough  oatmeal  and  baked  beans  to  last  the  fam- 
ily a  month.  But  even  Mrs.  Le  Boutillier  had  to 
have  a  dollar  to  work  her  magic,  and  now  the 
dollar  was  not  forthcoming.  Besides,  one  of  the 
children  had  been  desperately  ill,  and  care  and 
medicines  had  again  been  required. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  secured  some 
milk  tickets  from  the  Dispensary,  and  every  day 
little  Gaspard  had  gone  over  with  a  ticket  and 
brought  back  a  can  of  milk.  This  experience  that 
milk  came  from  milk  tickets  resulted  in  considera- 
ble mental  confusion  when  correlated  with  the  pic- 
tures of  cows  in  the  process  of  being  milked  as  he 
had  seen  them  in  Kindergarten.  Consequently 
when  he  first  went  to  the  country  and  saw  a  cow 
grazing  in  the  meadows,  his  muddled  apperception 
crystallised  at  once  under  the  stimulus  of  great  ex- 
citement, and  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  look  at  that  milk 
ticket!  "  Gaspard  was  a  stocky  little  urchin  of 
some  seven  years,  with  brown  eyes  which  sparkled 
with  a  glint  of  impish  laughter,  as  if  he  were  re- 
joicing in  the  knowledge  that  there  was  a  cannon 


98  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

cracker  about  to  explode  under  your  chair.  He 
had  a  firm  little  mouth,  and  a  curious  scar  or  birth- 
mark on  his  cheek  which  added  to  the  satirical  and 
Puck-like  expression  of  his  countenance.  The  rest 
of  the  family  were  somewhat  in  awe  of  little  Gas- 
pard.  They  never  knew  what  new  bit  of  ingenu- 
ity would  evolve  from  his  sprightly  brain. 

Marie,  a  girl  of  ten,  upon  whose  shoulders  the 
cares  of  housekeeping  rested  during  her  mother's 
illness,  did  not  find  him  of  great  assistance  in  wash- 
ing the  dishes,  scrubbing  the  floor,  and  especially 
in  packing  the  other  children  away  in  their  com- 
mon beds  at  night.  His  unwillingness  to  be 
thus  compressed  at  bed  time  may  have  been  due 
to  his  recent  experience  of  spending  two  weeks 
in  the  country.  On  the  first  night  of  his  vacation, 
when  his  wriggling  members  were  at  last  confined 
in  a  clean  white  night  suit  and  he  was  deposited 
between  the  sheets  of  a  pretty  little  bed,  he 
promptly  rolled  over  to  the  farthest  edge  and  flat- 
tened himself  against  the  wall.  He  looked  back 
over  his  shoulder  at  the  crowd  of  little  white  clad 
figures  waiting  to  be  located  for  the  night  and 
shouted :  "  How  many  of  youse  is  comin'  in 
here?" 

The  teacher  answered:  "  No  one  is  coming  in, 
Gaspard.  The  bed  is  just  for  you."  Gaspard 
rose  to  his  knees  and  stared  with  his  eyes  as  big 
as  saucers. 

"  De  whole  bed!  "  he  cried.     "  Gee!     See  me 


A   DOMESTIC    CRISIS  99 

flop  !  "  And  he  threw  himself  flat  face  down  with 
arms  and  legs  expanded  to  their  utmost  radius  like 
a  human  starfish. 

Gaspard  was  standing  near  Mr.  Le  Boutillier 
as  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  entered.  After  she 
had  sought  to  remove  from  the  father's  brow  the 
cloud  of  melancholy  which  the  arrival  of  his  latest 
born  had  occasioned,  Gaspard  led  her  into  the  bed- 
room where  Mrs.  Le  Boutillier  lay,  pale  but  smil- 
ing, with  a  fine  fat  blue-eyed  baby  at  her  side. 

"  Ees  he  not  a  fine  bebe?"  the  mother  asked, 
looking  down  at  him  tenderly.  "  But,"  she  went 
on,  glancing  up  with  an  apologetic  smile,  "  what 
we  sail  do,  me,  I  know  not.  How  we  can  get  ze 
food  for  one  more?  My  husband,  he  ees  so 
trouble.  Ze  children,  zay  have  nossing  to  eat  all 
day.  Ah,  poor  little  bebe,  zay  none  of  zem  wants 
you,  none  but  me!  "  And  she  pressed  the  little 
head  against  her  cheek  and  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears  which  trickled  down  on  to  the  face  of  the 
child  until  he  rolled  his  blue  eyes  in  astonishment. 

All  the  twinkle  was  gone  from  Gaspard's  face. 
He  looked  solemn  and  old,  with  his  firm  little  lips 
and  the  scar  on  his  cheek  and  a  wrinkle  on  his 
brow. 

11  But,  Mother,"  he  said,  "  why  did  you  go  and 
get  another  baby  when  there  ain't  enough  in  the 
house  for  the  kids  you've  got?  Me  and  Marie 
haven't  had  but  an  old  dry  bit  of  bread  all  day, 
and  when  we  keep  askin'  father  to  give  us  some- 


ioo  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

thin1  to  eat,  he  just  sits  there  and  shakes  his  head 
and  says  he  can't  get  no  work.  Wot  cher  goin' 
ter  do  when  that  kid  gets  hungry  and  begins  to 
howl?" 

Mrs.  Le  Boutillier  for  answer  only  pressed  the 
babe  closer  and  began  to  sob.  Gaspard  looked 
conscience-stricken  when  he  saw  his  mother's  tears. 

"Aw,  say!  "  he  said,  "don't  cry,  Mother!  I 
know  what  we'll  do !  There's  an  old  feller  down 
the  street  wants  his  coal  carried  up,  and  I'll  go 
down  and  carry  coal  for  him.  I'm  strong," —  and 
he  displayed  his  little  muscles  — "  I'll  bet  I  can 
work  as  well  as  those  old  loafers.  If  I  work  hard 
all  day  he'd  orter  give  me  a  quarter,  hadn't  he?  " 
he  went  on  eagerly.  "  He'd  give  me  ten  cents 
anyway,  an'  in  a  week  I'd  have  about  a  dollar,  an' 
that'll  git  enough  food  fer  us.  So  don't  you  cry, 
Mother!  "  and  he  patted  her  hand  as  it  lay  on  the 
bed  beside  him. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  felt  a  strange  clutch- 
ing at  the  throat  as  she  listened  to  this  unexpected 
speech.  She  knew  that  here  in  the  Fourth  Ward 
the  little  ones  she  loved  lived  close  to  the  dark 
shadows  and  that  it  could  not  be  long  before  even 
the  most  joyous  and  careless  must  feel  the  chill 
touch  of  poverty  or  death.  She  had  rejoiced  in 
the  manly  way  in  which  many  of  the  young  boys 
and  girls  stood  up  to  share  the  cares  of  their 
parents,  but  there  was  something  about  this  small 
imp   of  mischief   as  he   squared  his   stout  little 


1'iiuto  by  J.  11.  Denison. 

UNDER    THE     SHADOW 


A   DOMESTIC   CRISIS  101 

shoulders  to  the  burden  of  the  responsibility  which 
he  could  only  dimly  imagine,  that  seemed  unusual 
even  to  her  and  touched  her  deeply.  Mrs.  Le 
Boutillier  smiled  through  her  tears. 

"Oh,  Gaspard!"  she  said.  "  You  don't  un- 
derstand!    We  mus'  pay  for  ze  bebe." 

Gaspard's  black  eyes  opened  wide  at  this  unex- 
pected news,  but  he  was  not  yet  disheartened. 

"  How  much  yer  gotter  pay?"  he  asked. 
"  What  does  babies  cost?  " 

"  I've  got  to  pay  ten  dollars,"  said  his  mother. 

"  Gee !  "  said  Gaspard,  utterly  aghast.  "  It 
would  take  me  weeks  an'  weeks  to  make  all  that 
money!  " 

He  stood  a  moment  in  silence,  bravely  conceal- 
ing his  discouragement  lest  his  mother  should  weep 
again.  Then  slowly  he  picked  up  his  cap  and 
started  to  go  out  and  do  what  he  could  to  repair 
the  disaster.  The  imp  in  his  face  had  fled  at  the 
sight  of  family  care.  Gaspard  had  assumed  his 
share  of  responsibility  for  this  new  investment,  this 
costly  bit  of  flesh  which  made  such  extravagant 
demands  on  the  family  resources,  and  this  was 
clearly  no  time  for  mischief.  But  as  he  reached 
the  door,  Puck  reappeared  for  a  minute,  as  he 
called  back:  "  Say,  Mother,  why  didn't  yer  get  a 
girl?  If  boys  is  ten  dollars,  you  could  have  got 
a  girl  for  five,  sure!  " 


XII 

WAITING 

She  was  waiting  for  something.  You  could  see  it 
in  the  anxious  lines  that  puckered  incongru- 
ously a  face  that  Nature  had  designed  to  be  as 
placid  as  that  of  a  sheep  in  quiet  meadows.  She 
sat  heavily  in  the  cheap  easy  chair  with  its  gaudy 
covering,  but  there  was  no  rest  in  her  pose.  She 
bent  slightly  forward  as  if  she  were  about  to  rise 
at  some  expected  sound.  As  she  knitted  busily, 
every  now  and  then  she  would  turn  her  head 
quickly  to  the  window,  or  she  would  suddenly  stop 
the  click  of  her  needles  and  listen  a  moment  with 
her  eyes  on  the  door,  and  then  her  hands  of  them- 
selves would  resume  their  work. 

The  room  was  a  tiny,  bare  little  room,  and  yet 
it  was  evident  that  her  hands  had  done  everything 
possible  to  make  it  look  its  best.  The  wooden 
floor  shone  from  hard  scrubbing.  The  deal  table 
was  covered  with  a  home-made  patchwork  cloth  of 
gay  hues.  A  few  photographs  and  brilliant 
squares  of  embroidery  or  patchwork  hung  on  the 
walls.  On  the  mantel  were  some  knickknacks 
made  of  shell,  such  as  sailors  love  to  bring  home, 
and  the  photograph  of  a  man.  It  was  the  portrait 
of  a  common  workingman,  dressed  in  his  best  with 

102 


WAITING  103 

a  white  collar  and  a  new  necktie  of  hues  that 
seemed  to  impress  even  the  photographic  plate. 
The  picture  had  an  irresistible  attraction  for  her, 
for  her  eyes  kept  unconsciously  straying  toward  it, 
until  with  a  start  she  would  turn  again  to  the  win- 
dow or  the  door. 

It  was  a  strange  place  in  which  to  expect  to  find 
any  one  living,  this  tiny  room  tucked  away  in  the 
third  rear  house  which  a  greedy  landlord  had  suc- 
ceeded in  squeezing  into  the  courtyard  behind  a 
Cherry  Street  tenement.  The  great  stream  of 
passers  swept  by  on  the  street  outside,  little  dream- 
ing that  the  narrow  tunnel  beneath  that  ordinary 
tenement  led  into  a  little  world  with  a  population 
equal  to  that  of  a  country  town.  Around  the  nar- 
row little  patch  of  air  that  had  been  left  in  the 
process  of  squeezing,  rose  four  or  five  tumble- 
down wooden  structures,  that  seemed  to  have  been 
thrown  together  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment, 
with  no  plan  save  that  of  utilising  every  possible 
inch  of  space  and  air.  No  room  was  wasted  on 
staircases.  The  one  which  ascended  to  the  tiny 
room  was  steep  as  a  ladder,  partly  outside  and 
partly  inside  the  house.  Just  enough  space  was 
allowed  overhead  for  a  man  of  average  height  to 
stand  upright.  A  tall  man  would  have  had  to 
stoop  to  get  in,  and  sit  down  when  he  entered. 
One  or  two  rooms  at  most  were  all  that  were  al- 
lowed to  a  family,  but  the  rent  was  only  four 
dollars  a  month  for  single  rooms  and  six  for  dou- 


io4  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

ble  rooms,  so  that  every  vacant  space  was  occu- 
pied. 

The  court  swarmed  with  children.  Always  in 
the  ears  of  the  old  woman  as  she  sat  and  waited 
sounded  the  noise  of  their  laughter  as  they  played, 
or  of  their  cries  as  some  drunken  mother  cursed 
them  or  beat  them.  By  day  the  court  echoed  with 
the  shrieks  of  women  as  they  quarrelled  over  their 
clothes  lines,  and  by  night  with  their  screams  and 
curses  as  they  fought  over  their  beer.  There  was 
dirt  everywhere,  on  faces  and  clothes  and  walls 
and  floors.  The  air  was  heavy  with  the  odour  of 
it.  From  every  window  dirty  frowsled  heads 
looked  out.  Any  of  these  doors  might  have  been 
opened  to  reveal  a  grimy  table  covered  with  the 
remains  of  a  greasy  meal,  a  soiled  heap  of  bedding 
on  the  floor,  and  a  broken  chair  or  two. 

Hidden  away  in  the  midst  of  these  noisy,  dirty 
foreigners,  up  her  narrow  little  stair  in  the  tiny 
spotless  room,  the  old  woman  sat  and  waited. 
She  would  gladly  have  moved  to  pleasanter  quar- 
ters, but  for  the  past  two  months  she  had  not  been 
able  to  get  even  the  four  dollars  necessary  for  her 
rent  here,  and  it  was  only  the  kindness  of  the  land- 
lady that  allowed  her  even  this  space.  The  room 
was  bare  enough,  but  the  cupboard  was  almost 
empty.  A  cupful  of  tea  leaves  was  all  that  was 
left;  the  last  scrap  of  bread  had  gone  the  day  be- 
fore. But  it  was  not  food  for  which  she  was  wait- 
ing.    There  was  a  book  open  on  the  table  before 


WAITING  105 

her,  a  book  that  was  old  and  worn.  She  turned 
to  it  once  in  a  while  anxiously  and  read  a  little,  as 
if  she  expected  some  sort  of  direction  or  explana- 
tion. 

Day  after  day  she  had  sat  and  waited  just  as  she 
sat  now, —  day  after  day  since  the  morning  seven 
years  ago  when  her  husband  went  away  to  his 
work  and  never  came  back.  No  word  had  ever 
come  from  him,  and  so  each  day  she  prepared  the 
room  for  his  return  and  sat  down  to  wait.  She 
had  no  friends.  She  had  come  to  New  York  as 
a  stranger  with  her  husband.  Her  acquaintances 
were  limited  to  the  landlady  and  the  grocer  and  an 
occasional  neighbour  who  dropped  in  to  borrow  a 
broom  or  a  teapot.  At  first  they  had  given  her 
a  rough  sympathy,  but  after  a  time  they  grew  im- 
patient with  her.  "  Sure,  he's  never  comm'  back. 
He's  dead  these  five  years,"  they  would  say.  She 
would  look  at  them  sadly  as  though  she  did  not 
understand,  and  would  shake  her  head  slowly. 
Sometimes  after  several  neighbours  had  spoken  in 
the  effort  to  convince  her,  she  would  lose  hope. 
All  the  expectant  light  would  leave  her  eyes  and 
her  face  would  grow  heavy  and  sad  and  dull. 
Then  she  would  sit  again  by  the  gay-covered  table 
and  turn  the  pages  of  the  book  in  the  heaviness  of 
despair.  At  last  her  eye  would  chance  upon  some 
promise  there,  and  once  more  the  expectant  light 
would  return,  and  she  would  start  up  at  the  first 
step  on  the  stair.     The  neighbours  would  look  at 


106  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

one  another  and  tap  their  heads  and  say,  "  Poor 
soul." 

One  day  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  found  her. 
She  had  come  in  to  see  the  landlady's  son  who  was 
dying  the  slow  and  torturing  death  of  tuberculosis 
in  his  little  narrow  room,  and  the  landlady  said: 
"  Ther's  a  poor  soul  in  the  third  rear  house,  and 
I  don't  believe  she's  had  a  bite  to  eat  these  two 
days.  She  owes  two  months,  but  I  haven't  had 
the  heart  to  turn  her  out." 

Very  quietly  the  old  woman  told  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  the  story  of  her  waiting.  She  had 
grown  cautious  now,  for  she  had  learned  to  expect 
criticism  when  she  told  her  story  to  the  chance  ac- 
quaintance. But  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  found 
it  easy  to  draw  out  her  secret.  The  woman  had 
no  complaints  to  offer.  It  was  no  "  strange  mys- 
tery," no  "  terrible  fate."  If  she  knew  people 
who  would  give  her  sewing  then  she  would  not 
have  to  go  without  food,  but  she  had  no  friends. 

"  How  could  I  make  friends  with  the  like  of 
these?"  she  said,  and  nodded  her  head  at  a 
dishevelled  woman  who  was  shaking  her  fist  out  of 
the  opposite  window. 

She  did  not  want  work  that  would  take  her  far 
from  home,  she  said.  She  wished  to  be  here 
ready  to  greet  him  when  he  came  back. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  did  not  try  to  over- 
throw her  hope  or  to  shake  her  confidence.  This 
was  the  woman's  whole  life,  this  waiting  in  un- 


WAITING  107 

■ 

shaken  assurance  for  the  return  of  the  man  she 
loved.  What  were  seven  years?  He  had  said 
he  would  come  back.  He  might  be  delayed,  but 
he  would  come.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  said 
what  she  could  to  comfort  and  cheer,  and  when  she 
left  there  was  a  more  peaceful  light  on  the  placid 
face.  She  sent  in  a  basketful  of  food,  and  found 
sewing  enough  to  provide  for  the  needs  of  the 
future.  But  the  one  real  need  she  could  not  sat- 
isfy. She  could  only  sympathise.  Many  a  day 
she  would  come  in  and  sit  down  in  the  little  room 
that  was  always  spotless  and  ready  for  his  return, 
and  the  old  woman  would  push  her  spectacles  up, 
and  they  would  talk  together  of  his  coming. 

One  day  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  knocked  and 
there  was  no  answer.  She  opened  the  door. 
The  old  woman  sat  in  her  easy  chair  by  the  gay- 
covered  table,  looking  toward  the  door,  as  she  had 
sat  and  waited  all  the  seven  long  and  lonely  years. 
But  there  was  no  longer  on  her  face  the  strained 
and  anxious  look  that  told  of  expectation  ever  re- 
newed and  ever  overshadowed  by  disappointment. 
There  was  a  look  on  the  placid  features  that  had 
never  been  there  before  —  a  glad  surprise,  a  com- 
plete content  and  peace.  The  shouts  and  screams 
of  the  noisy  courtyard  sounded  in  through  the  win- 
dow, but  the  old  woman  would  never  hear  them 
again.  Down  below  two  of  the  neighbours,  who 
for  so  many  years  had  mocked  at  the  lonely  woman 
and  her  absurd  delusion,  were  fighting  with  shrieks 


108  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY, 

and  curses.  With  the  uproar  dinning  in  her  ears 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  stood  in  the  silence  of  the 
little  room.  From  the  lips  of  the  dead  she  could 
hear  something  which  the  heartless  cynics  outside 
would  never  hear  or  believe:  the  long  waiting 
had  not  been  in  vain.  The  moment  had  come 
that  had  made  up  for  all  the  years  of  loneliness 
and  disappointment.  He  had  come  back  at  last, 
and  had  found  her  at  her  post,  waiting.  She  had 
left  the  little  room  forever,  not  in  solitude,  but  in 
the  joy  and  peace  of  his  return. 


XIII 

A   BATTLE   BY  NIGHT 

It  was  after  ten  o'clock  Sunday  night.  The  min- 
ister and  Van  Schank  were  hurrying  down  Market 
Street,  discussing  anxiously  the  whereabouts  and 
fate  of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  She  had  been 
seen  to  dart  off  into  the  darkness  after  service,  and 
they  feared  she  had  ventured  into  the  dangerous 
and  disreputable  neighbourhood  of  Hamilton 
Street  to  look  up  the  Summers  family,  whose  ab- 
sence from  church  she  had  noted  with  dismay.  It 
was  a  breathless  summer's  night  and  the  tenement 
population  had  crept  forth  into  the  streets  in  the 
hope  of  finding  precious  air.  The  sidewalk  had 
become  a  public  bedroom;  little  children  slept  on 
blankets  on  the  bare  stones,  while  their  mothers, 
with  garments  reduced  to  a  minimum,  snored  in 
chairs  at  their  side.  Each  doorstep  was  a  recep- 
tion room  where  young  matrons  gabbled  noisily. 
Here  and  there,  at  certain  well  known  corners  used 
by  the  maidens  of  the  neighbourhood  as  substitutes 
for  parlours  in  which  to  receive  their  suitors, 
groups  of  girls  were  doing  their  utmost  to  attract 
the  young  toughs  who  were  making  the  rounds  of 
the  saloons.  Now  and  then  could  be  heard  a  bois- 
terous  laugh,    as  some    rough   arm  was   thrown 

109 


no  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

around  a  slim  waist.  The  darkness  of  the  street 
was  interrupted  by  the  yellow  glare  from  the  flam- 
ing torches  round  the  soda  booths,  which  illumined 
vividly  a  ring  of  dark  faces  and  dirty  hands  that 
clutched  for  penny  glasses  of  poisonous  looking 
green  or  pale  pink  fluid. 

When  the  minister  and  Van  Schank  turned  into 
Hamilton  Street  after  all  the  noise  and  glare  of 
the  thoroughfare,  they  seemed  suddenly  to  plunge 
into  blackness  and  silence.  This  was  no  public 
bedroom  and  parlour  and  dining  room.  The 
neighbourhood  recognised  this  section  as  a  place 
entered  at  night  only  by  those  whose  purposes 
were  dark.  Only  a  few  shadowy  female  forms 
followed  them  stealthily,  and  here  and  there  a 
group  of  men  whispered  together  in  the  gloom  of 
an  alley  way.  From  behind  the  closed  doors  of 
saloons  came  smothered  shouts  and  curses,  and 
from  some  of  the  houses  with  tight  drawn  curtains 
and  shut  blinds  could  be  heard  the  sound  of 
laughter  and  drunken  songs.  With  every  step  the 
minister  grew  more  anxious  about  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer. 

"  The  idea  of  her  coming  into  a  place  like  this 
at  this  time  of  night,"  he  said.  "  Why,  that  crowd 
would  sandbag  her  merely  on  the  chance  of  finding 
a  quarter  in  her  purse,  and  I  don't  see  how  she 
could  possibly  get  through  the  street  without  in- 
sult." 

The  two  men  turned  into  a  narrow  tenement 


A    BATTLE    BY   NIGHT  in 

door  half  way  up  the  street  and  ran  quickly  up  the 
four  flights  of  stairs  to  the  top  floor.  There  were 
four  families  on  each  floor  as  usual,  and  they 
knocked  at  the  right  hand  door  on  the  front.  The 
door  opened,  and  to  their  great  relief  there  sat 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  talking  earnestly  with  a 
well-dressed,  thick-set  man,  who  was  looking  at  her 
with  a  "  cat  in  the  cream  "  expression  in  his  twin- 
kling blue  eyes,  and  a  smile  of  humorous  depreca- 
tion beneath  his  yellow  moustache.  Summers  was 
the  kind  of  man  known  on  the  Bowery  as  a 
"  good  jollier."  He  had  an  air  of  confiding 
frankness  that  drew  one  swiftly  into  intimacy. 
The  twinkle  in  his  eyes  and  the  mischievous  quirk 
about  the  corner  of  his  mouth  were  part  of  the 
native  heritage  he  had  derived  from  proximity  to 
the  Blarney  Stone.  In  spite  of  his  genial  and  con- 
fiding air,  however,  no  one  ever  succeeded  in  find- 
ing out  anything  about  him.  He  disappeared 
from  view  every  day  or  two,  and  remained  invisi- 
ble for  twelve  or  fourteen  hours.  When  he  re- 
turned his  pockets  were  full  of  bills,  but  no  one, 
not  even  his  wife,  could  extort  from  him  any  in- 
formation as  to  how  he  got  them  or  where  he  had 
been.  He  turned  off  every  question  with  an 
evasive  joke,  and  even  those  who  considered  him 
an  intimate  friend  really  knew  nothing  about  him. 
The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  met  this  family 
through  her  protegee  Mrs.  Black,  a  sister  of  Mrs. 
Summers.     Mrs.    Summers    was    then    "  on    the 


ii2  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

street,"  for  although  Summers  brought  in  enough 
money,  both  he  and  his  wife  had  been  so  absorbed 
in  drinking  and  gambling  that  their  home  had  been 
broken  up.  Mrs.  Black  had  begged  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  to  do  for  her  sister's  husband  what 
she  had  done  for  Mr.  Black.  Summers  was  dis- 
gusted with  himself  and  sad  enough  over  his 
broken  home.  He  had  responded  to  her  appeal 
with  shame-faced  frankness  and  he  and  his  wife 
had  taken  the  pledge  together.  The  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  had  started  them  at  housekeeping  in 
this  little  apartment.  The  neatness  of  the  room, 
where  every  article  was  fresh  and  new,  bore  wit- 
ness to  the  success  of  the  experiment  and  to  the 
efficiency  of  Mrs.  Summers  as  a  housekeeper. 
Each  week  some  new  piece  of  furniture  for  the 
house,  or  of  some  article  of  clothing  for  the  chil- 
dren, was  added  from  the  funds  Summers  brought 
home.  The  family  had  attended  church  regularly, 
and  this  week  when  they  had  failed  to  appear  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  sure  that  it  betokened 
some  disaster,  physical  or  moral,  and  had  hurried 
to  their  home  heedless  of  danger  to  herself  in  the 
hope  of  arriving  before  the  damage  was  irremedi- 
able. 

Summers  looked  up  as  the  minister  and  his 
friend  entered. 

"  She's  been  givin'  me  a  terrible  lecture,"  he 
said  with  a  rueful  smile  on  his  frank  face.  "  Say, 
you'd  orter  'ave  heard  her,"  he  went  on.     "  She 


A   BATTLE    BY   NIGHT  113 

give  it  to  me  somethin'  fierce,  just  because  I'd  been 
drinkin'  a  bit  and  wouldn't  lie  out  of  it,  like  most 
of  your  bums." 

But  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  in  no  mood 
for  cajolery.  She  sat  leaning  forward,  her  arms 
resting  on  the  table  and  her  slender  hands  clasped 
lightly,  but  as  she  answered  him,  her  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  Summers  with  such  intensity  that  his 
semi-jovial  mood  began  to  give  way  beneath  their 
gaze.  Before  her  passionate  appeal  in  the  name 
of  his  home  and  his  little  ones  he  could  no  longer 
maintain  his  air  of  indifference.  His  eyes  dropped 
and  a  sheepish  look  came  over  his  face.  As  she 
pleaded  with  him,  she  reached  out  her  hand  and 
patted  the  head  of  little  Mamie,  a  rosy  cherub  of 
two  years,  who  had  crept  out  of  bed  and  was  gal- 
loping about,  her  progress  impeded  by  no  bodily 
ornament  more  serious  than  her  own  yellow  curls. 
Lizzie,  a  thin,  sallow  child  of  eight,  whose  face 
was  prematurely  wrinkled  by  anxiety  and  pain,  was 
watching  the  scene  from  the  chair  on  which  she 
half  sat,  half  stood,  her  little  figure  all  bent  and 
twisted.  Mrs.  Summers  had  been  hastily  donning 
her  garments  in  the  bedroom,  but  now  her  good 
humoured  Irish  face  appeared  at  the  door.  The 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  ended  her  appeal  by  recall- 
ing to  Summers  how,  when  she  first  fitted  out  his 
home,  he  had  promised  that  he  would  start  in  then 
and  there  and  live  a  different  life.  At  this  point 
Summers  looked  up  and  ventured  a  protest. 


ii4  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

"  Look  here,"  he  said.  "  It  ain't  no  use  fer 
you  to  talk  about  me  bein'  a  Christian.  I  can't  be 
a  Christian  in  my  business,  and  that's  straight. 
It's  no  use  talkin'." 

"  I  should  think  a  man  could  do  right  in  any 
business,"  she  said.  "  If  your  business  is  one  in 
which  you  can't  do  right,  you  ought  to  give  it  up." 

"What!  and  see  my  children  starve?  Not 
much  I  oughtn't,"  he  answered. 

11  Can't  you  tell  me  some  of  your  difficulties  in 
your  work?"  she  continued.  "Perhaps  I  could 
help  you." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  explain  it  to  you,"  he  said  eva- 
sively, "  you  couldn't  understand !  " 

His  manner  discouraged  further  questions  as  to 
his  business,  and  she  returned  quickly  to  the  main 
issue.  She  knew  that  in  spite  of  his  faults  he  was 
a  man  of  his  word,  and  her  one  desire  was  to  get 
from  him  a  promise  that  he  would  drink  no  more 
that  night.  She  knew  that  if  he  took  to  the  bottle 
again  he  would  not  stop  till  every  penny  was  gone 
and  all  his  possessions  pawned.  But  Summers 
was  obdurate. 

11  I'll  promise  after  I've  had  another  drink,"  he 
said. 

s*  Mr.  Summers,  I  can't  rest  to-night  till  I  have 
your  word,"  she  answered. 

11  I'm  no  liar  like  the  rest  of  these  bums,  or  I'd 
promise,"  he  said.     "  But  what  would  be  the  use 


A   BATTLE   BY   NIGHT  115 

of  me  lyin'  to  ye.  I'm  a  goin'  to  have  another 
drink." 

Here  the  minister  interfered.  "You  must  go 
home,"  he  said  to  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  I'll 
look  after  Summers." 

"  I  can't  leave  him  till  he  promises,"  she  said. 

Her  face  was  white  and  haggard,  but  in  spite 
of  physical  exhaustion,  in  her  eyes  the  fire  of  de- 
termination burned  bright  as  ever,  and  by  the  set 
of  her  firm  lips  and  the  tilt  of  her  strong  chin  a 
man  of  less  befuddled  mind  than  Summers  would 
have  known  that  he  might  as  well  surrender  then 
as  later.  But  with  Summers  in  his  present  condi- 
tion the  conflict  was  likely  to  outlast  the  night. 

"  I'll  give  you  my  word  that  Summers  won't 
touch  a  drop  till  he  sees  you  in  the  morning.  I'll 
stay  by  and  see  to  it,"  said  the  minister. 

He  little  knew  what  he  was  saying,  but  she  ac- 
cepted his  word  unquestioningly.  "  Very  well, 
then,  I'll  go,"  she  said.  "  If  you  are  going  to 
stay,  Mrs.  Summers  and  the  children  had  better 
come  with  me  up  to  her  sister's  and  spend  the 
night." 

They  departed  in  accordance  with  this  arrange- 
ment, leaving  Summers  gazing  at  the  minister  and 
Van  Schank  in  amazed  disgust. 

"  Say,  look  here !  What  kind  of  a  holdup  is 
this?  You're  all  right  and  I'm  proud  to  have  ye 
callin'  on  me  and  doin'  the  social  act,  but  this  ain't 


n6  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

no  time  o'  night  fer  kaffy  Matches  and  pink  teas," 
he  remarked. 

11  It  is  rather  late,"  said  the  minister,  "  but  you 
see  I  promised  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  I'd  stay 
until  you  promised  not  to  drink  any  more." 

"  Hully  Gee!  d'ye  think,  I'm  agoin'  ter  set  the 
house  afire  and  murder  me  children  on  one  glass 
o'  beer?  I  tell  ye,  I'm  agoin'  ter  have  another 
drink,  and  then  I'll  go  to  bed  and  to-morrow  I'll 
be  sober  enough  to  go  to  me  own  funeral." 

"  It's  hard  luck,  but  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  stay 
till  you  promise  not  to  drink  any  more." 

"What  t'ell!  You  ain't  me  grandmother!" 
said  Summers,  a  sulky  look  clouding  his  good- 
humoured  face.  "  I  can  swaller  me  food  and 
drink  without  no  clerical  assistance!  Me  stomach 
ain't  run  by  no  dum  syndicate.  You  mind  your 
business,  and  I'll  mind  mine." 

11  Mr.  Summers,  this  is  my  business,"  said  the 
minister.  "  I'm  here  for  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer.  Think  what  she  has  done  for  you.  She 
has  cared  for  you  and  your  family  as  no  mother 
would  have  done.  She  got  you  this  home.  She 
gave  you  food  when  you  were  hungry.  She  gave 
clothes  to  your  naked  children.  All  these  weeks 
she  has  watched  over  you  and  planned  for  you. 
You  know  when  you  drink  it  is  like  stabbing  her. 
Don't  you  suppose  that  if  it  would  stop  you  from 
drinking,  she  would  hold  out  her  hand  and  let  you 
cut  it  oft?" 


A   BATTLE   BY   NIGHT  117 

At  mention  of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  the 
look  of  annoyance  faded  from  Summers's  face. 

"  I  honestly  believe  she  would,  so  help  me 
Gawd,"  he  said  solemnly. 

"  Are  you  going  to  disappoint  a  love  like  that?  " 
said  the  minister.  "  You  know  how  she  cares. 
Do  you  suppose  God  cares  less?  She  would  let 
her  hand  be  cut  off  to  save  you.  They  really  did 
drive  nails  through  the  hands  of  a  man  once,  and 
cut  his  body  with  the  scourge  and  he  allowed  it, 
that  you  might  know  how  He  cares  and  what  He 
is  willing  to  bear  to  save  you  from  doing  wrong. 
A  true  man  will  not  be  false  to  love  like  that." 

"  Oh,  say  now,  I  tell  you  it's  no  use  my  tryin'  to 
be  good  in  my  business.  I  might  as  well  try  to 
balance  an  egg  on  me  nose  in  the  middle  of  a 
sluggin'  match.  Them  sailors  is  tough  customers 
to  handle.  You  might  wear  the  knees  off  yer 
pants  prayin',  and  there  wouldn't  none  of  them 
budge  till  you'd  loaded  him  up  with  booze.  And 
the  whole  business  is  crooked.  You  can't  get  'em 
to  hand  out  their  cash  ter  buy  gilt-edged  hymn 
books  fer  dyin'  orphans,  and  we've  gotter  get  the 
boodle  off  'em  somehow.     A  feller  must  live." 

"How  do  you  do  it?"  asked  the  minister, 
growing  interested  in  the  revelation.  He  had 
heard  something  of  the  runners  who  went  out  in 
row-boats  from  the  sailors'  boarding-houses,  and 
met  the  incoming  ships  to  decoy  the  sailors  to  some 
disreputable  place.     The  business  of  the  runners 


n8  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

was  to  render  these  men  helpless  by  drugged 
whisky,  and  rob  them  of  their  pay.  Then  while 
still  unconscious,  the  boarding-house  keeper  would 
deliver  them  on  board  some  out-going  ship,  and 
receive  in  return  a  goodly  sum  from  the  captain. 
Little  was  known  of  the  situation  at  the  time,  for 
it  was  before  the  ring  of  boarding-house  keepers, 
which  controlled  all  the  shipping  of  sailors  in  New 
York,  was  broken  up  at  great  personal  risk  by  the 
rector  of  the  Floating  Church.  So  effectually  was 
it  exposed,  however,  that  the  whole  iniquitous  sys- 
tem, by  which  the  helpless  sailors  had  been  de- 
frauded for  years,  was  destroyed. 

The  note  of  curiosity  in  the  minister's  voice 
recalled  Summers  to  himself.  He  glanced  keenly 
at  the  minister  and  a  mask  fell  suddenly  over  his 
frank  countenance. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  do  much!  "  he  said.  "  I  just  go 
out  in  a  boat  and  jolly  the  sailors  a  bit." 

He  rose  to  his  feet.  "  Well !  I'm  off  to  get 
another  drink,  an'  then  I'm  done.  I'll  drink  no 
more  then,  not  if  ye  soak  me  in  beer  up  to  me 
chin." 

The  minister  knew  that  if  he  really  believed 
this,  his  belief  was  certainly  an  hallucination. 
There  would  be  no  more  stopping  after  the  first 
drink  than  after  the  first  yard  on  a  toboggan  slide. 

11  But  I  promised  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  you 
wouldn't  take  any  at  all,"  he  said.  "  It  is  very 
awkward,  but  I  don't  see  how  I  can  let  you  go. 


A  BATTLE   BY   NIGHT       .       119 

You  wouldn't  have  me  break  a  promise  to  a  lady, 
would  you?  " 

"  Now  look  here !  "  said  Summers,  setting  his 
teeth  and  with  an  ugly  look  in  his  narrowing  eyes. 
"  You  can  promise  the  Empress  of  Chiny  I  won't 
swaller  nothin'  but  green  lemonade  and  stewed 
clams,  if  you  like,  but  I've  got  to  have  a  drink,  all 
the  same,  and  what's  more  I'm  goin'  to  get  it 
right  now!  "  and  he  started  forward. 

"  You'll  have  to  walk  right  through  me  then," 
said  the  minister,  smiling,  "  for  unfortunately  I 
promised  to  stop  you,  you  know." 

"  Stop  me !  "  shouted  Summers,  now  thoroughly 
aroused.  "  You  couldn't  do  it!  not  if  you  was  a 
archangel  blowin'  on  a  tin  trumpet.  Get  out  o' 
my  way  or  somethin'll  get  broke!  " 

He  picked  up  a  heavy  club  and  rushed  at  the 
minister.  Van  Schank  jumped  to  his  side  in  some 
alarm. 

"  Thanks!  I'll  take  it  on  the  top  of  my  head 
and  my  left  ear,"  said  the  minister.  "  Oh,  come 
off,  Summers,  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself.  I 
know  you  wouldn't  hit  me." 

Summers  dropped  his  stick  and  looked  rather 
foolish.  "  You  know  I'm  not  here  for  my  own 
amusement,"  he  went  on.  "  I'm  here  to  help  you, 
—  your  true  self,  I  mean, —  for  your  true  self 
doesn't  want  to  drink.  It  hates  the  drink,  and 
I'm  here  to  help  you  against  that  devil  that  is  try- 
ing to  make  you  do  something  you  know  is  wrong." 


120  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

"  You're  off,"  said  Summers.  "  Me  true  self 
and  all  the  rest  of  'em  wants  a  drink,  and  I'm  goin' 
to  get  it.  If  you  won't  let  me  out  o'  the  door, 
I'll  jump  out  the  window.  I'm  desp'rate,"  and  he 
rushed  out  on  the  little  balcony  that  overhung  the 
street,  four  stories  below. 

"  All  right,"  said  the  minister,  "  jump  away. 
Only  don't  make  too  bad  a  spot  on  the  sidewalk." 
Summers  came  back  from  the  window  with  a  fool- 
ish grin. 

"  Hear  them  folks  over  to  the  Ink  Pot,"  he 
said. 

"  That  what?  "  asked  the  minister. 

"  The  Ink  Pot.  That's  what  they  call  that 
joint  over  in  Cherry  Street.  They're  drinkin'  and 
bangin'  each  other  on  the  head  and  doin'  the  fancy 
song  and  dance  act  every  night  in  the  year.  The 
can  never  stops  goin'  over  there,  so  they  calls  it 
the  Ink  Pot." 

The  house  so  designated  was  an  old  mansion 
with  colonial  doorway  and  mahogany  woodwork, 
each  room  of  which  was  now  occupied  by  a  large 
family,  and  which  had  become  notorious  for  its 
noisy  altercations.  Summers  entered  upon  a  racy 
description  of  the  habits  of  his  neighbours  even  to 
the  exciting  point  where  they  "  pulled  a  gun  on 
the  copper."  This  led  to  shooting  stories,  and  the 
minister  and  Van  Schank  swapped  yarns  till  the 
clock  struck  two. 

"  Say,  I  can't  stay  in  here  another  second.     I 


IHSpc    /J 


i  ■ 

e   i 

t    i 


by  J.  H.  Denison 


THE    INK    POT 


A   BATTLE   BY   NIGHT  121 

feel  like  there  was  ten  cans  of  dynamite  in  me  each 
goin'  to  bust  a  different  way.  You  sit  here  and 
I'll  go  out  and  take  a  walk  and  come  back  in  a 
minute,"  said  Summers. 

11  I'm  tired  of  sitting  still  myself.  I  think  I'll 
go  along,"  said  the  minister. 

Summers's  face  fell.  He  hesitated  a  moment. 
Then  he  darted  to  the  door. 

"  I've  got  to  leave  you.  I'll  be  back  in  a  sec- 
ond," he  said  as  he  slipped  out. 

"  You  would  better  go  home  and  sleep  and  re- 
lieve me  in  the  morning,"  said  the  minister  to  Van 
Schank. 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  "  I  can  hardly  keep  my 
eyes  open." 

The  minister  did  not  wait  for  Summers's  return. 
He  hurried  downstairs  and  found  him  making  a 
bee  line  for  the  saloon. 

"  Hold  on  a  minute,"  he  called.  "  You  came 
near  forgetting  me." 

"  Say,  can't  you  leave  a  fellow  alone  long 
enough  to  blow  his  nose?"  said  Summers  with 
some  irritation. 

"  I  would  hate  to  lose  sight  of  a  good  pal  like 
you,"  said  the  minister.  "  You  see,  I  can't  be 
happy  out  of  your  sight." 

"  You  can't  wad  me  ears  wid  no  song  and  dance 
like  that,"  said  Summers  with  a  rueful  grin. 
"  Honest  now,  I've  got  ter  leave  ye.  I've  got  a 
little  business  of  me  own  to  tend  to." 


122  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  asked  the  minister. 

"  It's  about  me  wife,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  tell 
you." 

"  Why,  she's  fast  asleep  at  her  sister's  long 
ago,"  said  the  minister. 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,"  said  Summers,  shaking 
his  head  in  sinister  fashion. 

"  Take  my  word  fer  it,  you'll  never  find  a 
woman  in  the  place  where  she  thinks  you  think  she 
is,"  he  continued  darkly.  "  Whenever  she  tells 
you  very  particular  just  where  she  is,  you  can  be 
dead  sure  she's  somewhere  else.  It's  only  when 
she  forgets  to  tell  you  where  she's  goin'  that  you'll 
find  her  there.  Oh,  she's  clever,  all  right,  but  she 
can't  fool  me.  I'm  goin'  around  to  her  sister's 
just  to  prove  she  ain't  there." 

"  I'm  sure  she  is,  and  I'll  go  along  and  see," 
said  the  minister. 

Summers  ground  his  teeth  in  desperation. 
"Come  on,  then!"  he  said,  and  started  up  the 
street  like  a  stone  from  a  catapult. 

The  streets  were  still  and  deserted.  Only  from 
the  Ink  Pot  across  the  way  shouts  and  screams 
still  sounded.  There  was  something  awful  in  the 
deadly  silence  of  this  densely  populated  street.  It 
seemed  as  if  sudden  death  had  descended  on  the 
great  city  with  all  its  noise  and  turmoil.  Across 
the  way  a  group  of  men  lurked  in  the  shadow, 
whispering.  Summers  stopped  and  waited  for  the 
minister. 


A   BATTLE    BY    NIGHT  123 

"  I  know  that  gang,"  he  said.  "  They're  waitin' 
fer  a  sailor  to  come  out  o'  the  saloon,  well-doped 
an'  leary-eyed,  an'  they'll  give  him  a  jolt  with 
the  Black  Jack,  an'  when  he  comes  to,  he'll  be 
lucky  if  he  has  even  a  shirt  to  flap  round  his 
ribs." 

11  Can't  we  stop  them?  "  asked  the  minister. 

"  Not  much.  It's  none  of  our  business.  Let 
'em  alone,"  and  Summers  started  on.  "  Say,  me 
nerves  is  on  the  bias,  an'  me  veins  is  skewgeed. 
I've  got  to  have  a  rosiner.  Wait  just  a  jiff.  I'll 
be  back  before  a  skeeter  could  flip  his  wing." 

But  this  did  not  agree  with  the  minister's  con- 
tract, and  so  they  went  through  the  gamut  of  argu- 
ment again,  from  passionate  plea  in  the  name  of 
the  holiest  to  the  semi-jocose  "  jolly."  They 
touched  on  tears  and  anger  and  laughter.  Now 
they  were  in  front  of  a  huge  tenement  that  loomed 
up  vague  and  shadowy  in  the  darkness. 

11  Here's  the  place,  now  we'll  see!  "  said  Sum- 
mers, and  darted  through  the  open  door  into  the 
long  black  hallway.  It  was  pitch  dark,  and  they 
had  to  grope  their  way.  Strange  noises  sounded 
in  the  darkness  before  them,  heavy  breathing  and 
now  and  then  a  panting  groan.  They  crept  on 
noiselessly.  Suddenly  Summers  tripped  and  fell 
headlong  with  a  curse.  A  weird  cry  of  terror 
echoed  through  the  hall  and  a  fearful  groan. 
Two  vague  figures  rose  from  the  ground  under 
the  minister's  feet,  and  brushed  past,  nearly  over- 


124  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

turning  him  in  the  dark.  A  thrill  of  horror  went 
through  him. 

"  What's  that  ?  Summers !  Where  are  you  ?  " 
he  said. 

"  The  good  for  nothing  bums!"  Summers  an- 
swered in  the  blackness.  "  Sleepin'  all  over  the 
floor,  so  a  decent  man  can't  stir  without  trippin' 
over  some  man's  nose,  or  dirtyin'  his  shoes  in  their 
whiskers.  I  wisht  I  had  a  gun!  I'd  singe  their 
ears  for  'em!  " 

He  crept  out  the  back  door  into  the  court  and 
across  the  court  into  the  rear  house,  whence  soon 
arose  the  sound  of  a  violent  altercation. 

"  She's  there  all  right !  "  said  Summers,  return- 
ing at  length.  "  I  pulled  her  out  o'  bed  to  make 
sure.  She  done  it  to  fool  me.  You  can't  never 
tell  what  a  woman'll  do  next.  She  got  on  me 
nerves  all  right.  Say,  I'm  crazy.  I've  gotter 
have  a  ball!" 

"  Come,  let's  walk  up  to  the  Bridge,"  said  the 
minister. 

Summers  assented  sullenly,  and  once  more  they 
made  their  way  through  the  ghostly  streets  upon 
which  rested  that  horror  of  silence,  so  intense,  so 
awful,  that  it  was  a  relief  to  catch  even  the  sound 
of  a  curse  from  behind  the  closed  doors  of  a  saloon, 
or  to  see  the  skulking  figures  of  the  footpads  as 
they  awaited  their  victims. 

The  first  grey  light  of  dawn  was  breaking  when 
at  last  they  stood  on  the  centre  of  the  great  bridge, 


A   BATTLE   BY   NIGHT  125 

with  its  huge  piers  towering  above  them,  shadowy 
in  the  grey  light,  and  the  black  river  swirling  far 
below.  Around  them  in  the  depths  lay  the  great 
city,  with  all  its  wretchedness  and  vice  and  bitter 
anguish  packed  into  the  crowded  tenements  that 
stretched  away  for  miles;  the  great  city,  with  its 
countless  thousands  hushed  for  awhile  into  insensi- 
bility, only  too  soon  to  waken  to  the  consciousness 
of  pain  and  poverty  and  hunger.  The  stars  paled 
slowly,  and  the  grey  light  changed  to  rose  as  they 
leaned  on  the  rails  and  watched  the  coming  of  the 
dawn. 

Still  the  battle  went  on.  The  thirst  of  Summers 
seemed  to  grow  with  every  passing  moment  to  a 
fire  of  craving  that  could  not  be  extinguished.  He 
tried  every  ruse  and  every  plea  that  his  fertile 
mind  could  invent.  The  minister  was  conscious 
only  of  overpowering  weariness.  He  could 
scarcely  summon  energy  enough  to  resist.  It  was 
exhausting  even  to  think. 

Slowly  they  walked  back.  The  saloons  were 
beginning  to  open. 

"  I've  got  to  have  just  one  ball,"  said  Summers. 
11  I  won't  be  gone  a  minute." 

The  minister  had  not  the  physical  strength  for 
further  argument.  "  All  right,  go  ahead  if  you 
must.  I'll  go  in  with  you,"  he  said,  hoping  that 
he  could  get  Summers  out  after  the  first  glass. 

Summers  looked  at  him  in  solemn  disgust. 

"  D'ye  think  I  could  get  any  soshul  enjoyment 


ia6  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

swallerin'  a  glass  of  whisky  wid  you  standin'  there 
and  lookin'  at  me  like  that?  "  he  asked.  "  Sure  it 
would  sour  on  me  stummick.  I  ain't  a  church-goin' 
man,  but  I've  got  too  much  respect  fer  the  cloth 
to  be  drinkin'  in  the  prisince  of  a  minister." 

He  turned  away  from  the  saloon.  "  You'll  be 
the  death  o'  me,  sure !  "  he  added  with  a  sigh. 

Fortunately  he  took  his  course  past  the  church. 
The  minister's  hope  revived.  While  Summers 
fixed  his  eye  on  a  saloon  on  the  opposite  corner,  he 
darted  to  the  Church  House  and  pounded  on  the 
door.  The  sexton  stuck  a  towsled  head  out  of 
the  window,  and  blinked  at  him  in  sleepy  astonish- 
ment. "  Get  on  your  clothes  and  come  out  here 
and  jolly  Summers  awhile,"  he  said.  "  I'm  played 
out." 

The  sexton  grasped  the  situation  and  his  trou- 
sers swiftly  and  almost  simultaneously,  and  the 
minister  shouted  to  Summers  who  was  half  way 
across  to  the  saloon:  "Oh,  Summers!  Come 
here  a  minute!  Dave  wants  to  tell  you  some- 
thing!" 

Summers  returned  with  a  look  of  despair  and 
disgust  on  his  face.  But  Dave  rose  nobly  to  the 
emergency.  He  plunged  into  a  lively  discussion 
of  ward  politics,  and  soon  had  the  man's  attention. 
The  minister  was  too  exhausted  to  follow  the  con- 
versation. 

"  It  is  incredible  that  any  human  being  could 
want  anything  so  much  as  that  man  wants  a  glass 


A   BATTLE    BY   NIGHT  127 

of  whisky,"  he  thought  as  he  leaned  against  the 
fence.  "  Why,  if  one  man  wanted  to  reform  New 
York  politics  and  pursued  his  aim  with  that  same 
inflexibility  of  will,  the  city  would  be  transformed 
to  virtue  in  a  month." 

It  was  seven  o'clock  at  last. 

"  It's  time  I  went  to  work,"  said  Summers,  look- 
ing up  as  the  bells  struck.     "  I'll  be  off." 

"All  right,"  said  the  minister.  "  We'll  go  up 
and  see  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  and  then  you 
can  go." 

"  But  I'm  goin'  to  have  my  rosiner,"  said  Sum- 
mers. 

"  I  don't  care  about  that,"  said  the  minister. 
"  I  promised  you  shouldn't  drink  till  you  saw  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  After  you  see  her,  you  can 
do  as  you  choose." 

Summers  looked  at  him  with  a  disgusted  grin. 

"Well,  you  are  a  sticker,  for  fair!"  he  said. 
M  Are  you  through  with  me  after  I  see  her?  " 

"  My  responsibility  ends  then,  and  I'll  bother 
you  no  more." 

"  Come  on  then,  you  can't  go  too  quick  for 
me!  "  said  Summers. 

They  took  the  car  uptown  and  soon  were  await- 
ing the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  in  the  little  parlour 
of  her  house.  She  came  down  fresh  and  bright, 
with  a  happy  light  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Summers,"  she  cried.  "  I'm  so  glad 
to  see  you.     I  knew  you  would  come.     You're  go- 


ia8  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

ing  to  promise  me  to  give  up  the  drink  forever, 
now,  aren't  you?  " 

The  minister  turned  aside.  He  could  not  bear 
to  be  a  witness  to  her  disappointment.  She  had 
been  so  sure  of  this  man,  and  so  strong  in  her 
faith  in  him.  Now  she  was  to  be  sadly  disillu- 
sioned when  she  saw  his  purpose,  more  firmly 
rooted  than  ever  after  a  night  of  deprivation,  to 
drink  the  moment  he  left  her  presence.  Then  to 
his  utter  amazement  Summers  looked  around  with 
a  sheepish  grin,  and  said:  "  All  right!  here  goes. 
I'll  promise." 


XIV 

THE   GLORY   IN  THE   GLOOM 

It  was  one  of  those  sweltering  summer  days  for 
which  New  York  is  famous,  but  it  was  not  the  heat 
that  oppressed  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  as  she  ran 
up  the  stairs  of  a  miserable  tenement  in  Hamilton 
Street.  Ordinarily,  she  was  optimistic  enough, 
and  even  when  every  one  else  had  lost  sight  of  the 
star  of  hope,  she  still  kept  the  vision  of  a  last, 
lingering  gleam.  But  she  had  come  upon  many 
terrible  scenes  behind  the  walls  of  these  tenements, 
and  to-day  she  had  the  uncomfortable  sense  that 
some  hideous  discovery  awaited  her  on  the  other 
side  of  the  closed  door  on  the  third  floor  front,  and 
she  shuddered  slightly  as  she  knocked  upon  it. 

It  was  not  a  very  pleasing  voice  that  invited  her 
to  come  in,  nor  was  it  an  especially  attractive  apart- 
ment into  which  she  entered.  The  table  had  not 
been  cleared  from  the  recent  meal,  which,  she 
judged  by  the  appearance  of  the  children  who 
greeted  her,  had  been  taken  externally  as  well  as 
internally.  A  dish  or  two  of  soup  had  been  upset 
upon  the  table  and  was  trickling  down  to  the  floor, 
which  was  in  its  turn  littered  with  a  debris  of  bits 
of  food  and  rags  in  the  middle,  and  in  the  corners 
some    greasy   blankets    and   dirty   comforters    on 

129 


i3o  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

which  the  children  had  slept.  Everywhere  were 
the  evidences  of  a  simple  life  with  no  attempt  at 
division  of  labour  or  classification  of  function,  but 
with  all  the  utensils  of  eating,  sleeping,  clothing 
and  washing  mingled  in  a  promiscuous  disarray  on 
furniture  and  floor.  Mrs.  Black,  the  lady  of  the 
house,  was  barefooted,  her  ragged  dress  was  open 
at  the  throat,  and  her  tangled  hair  was  tumbling 
down  her  back.  The  corners  of  her  mouth 
drooped,  and  her  eyes  were  red  and  watery,  a  mod- 
ern Niobe,  by  whose  side  her  ancient  prototype 
seemed  almost  cheerful.  One  child,  whose  face 
was  smudged  by  soup  and  dirt,  clung  to  her  skirts 
and  howled,  and  the  sick  baby  in  her  arms  moaned 
and  sobbed.  The  two  other  children  were  rolling 
on  the  floor  and  pummeling  each  other,  somewhat 
to  the  alarm  of  the  cockroaches  that  had  been  feed- 
ing on  the  crumbs  and  were  now  scuttling  away  to 
their  favourite  retreat  behind  the  picture  on  the 
wall. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  stood  in  the  midst  of 
this  chaos,  reflecting  that  the  condition  of  the  room 
seemed  to  call  for  critical  comment.  But  she  knew 
that  cleanliness  is  an  expensive  matter  where  one 
is  called  upon  to  take  continual  care  of  a  sick  baby 
and  three  ailing  children,  and  to  do  the  cooking 
and  washing  at  the  same  time,  and  she  realised 
that  Mrs.  Black  had  no  income  for  luxuries.  Be- 
sides, she  had  no  attention  to  give  to  superficial 
issues  just  now,  for  she  feared  that  this  little  home, 


THE   GLORY   IN   THE   GLOOM       131 

in  which  she  had  been  interested  for  many  months, 
was  threatened  with  overwhelming  disaster. 

During  the  last  winter,  in  the  course  of  her 
rounds,  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  entered  one 
of  those  unique  and  far-famed  hostelries  which  at 
present  occupy  some  of  the  old  houses  adjoining 
the  Cherry  Street  mansion  once  occupied  by  Gen- 
eral Washington.  They  do  not  presume  to  offer 
guests  a  room  or  even  a  bed.  Lodgings  are  rented 
at  the  rate  of  five  cents  a  spot,  the  spot  including 
a  heap  of  rags  that  have  been  accumulating  more 
odour  than  sanctity  from  Revolutionary  days,  and 
also  a  can  of  frothy  substance  known  as  mixed  ale, 
the  mixture  being  a  minimum  of  ale  and  a  maxi- 
mum of  old  rinsings.  To  this  hospitable  place 
there  repaired  nightly  some  twenty  or  thirty  ancient 
hags,  ragged,  maudlin  with  drink,  and  in  general 
well  equipped  to  play  extempore  the  part  of  Mac- 
beth's  witches.  They  were  busied  in  selecting 
their  spots  and  among  their  grotesquely  repulsive 
faces,  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  noted  one  which 
by  contrast  seemed  quite  angelic.  Its  owner  was 
young,  at  least,  and  sober  and  reasonably  clean. 
The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  inquired  her  reasons  for 
sleeping  in  such  a  loathsome  place,  and  she  burst 
into  tears,  and  told  the  old  story  of  a  home  broken 
up  because  a  man  had  too  little  to  do  and  too  much 
to  drink. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  interested  in  her 
new  find,  and  promptly  hunted  up  the  husband  to 


i32  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

see  if  there  was  in  him  the  timber  from  which  a 
home  might  be  built.  With  his  smooth  cheek  and 
beardless  chin  and  soft  brown  eyes,  he  seemed  an 
amazingly  boyish  creature  to  have  the  responsi- 
bility of  a  wife  and  four  children,  but  she  liked  his 
clear-cut  profile  and  quick,  deft  movements,  and 
soon  discovered  that  his  hands  were  unusually 
clever,  and  that  the  muscles  of  his  lithe  body  were 
like  iron.  He  had  been  ruined  by  his  very  clever- 
ness. He  was  handy  at  every  trade,  and  had 
never  learned  any  thoroughly.  The  man  who 
"  can  do  anything  "  is  only  employed  where  men 
are  willing  to  take  anybody.  This  year  with  thou- 
sands of  skilled  workmen  idle,  no  one  seemed  to 
need  the  services  of  Black.  He  was  frank  enough 
to  admit,  however,  that  in  his  case  there  were  other 
causes  of  disaster.  He  stated  plainly  that  "  drink 
was  his  curse,"  and  so  serious  a  curse  that  no  charm 
had  proved  adequate  to  remove  it.  He  explained 
that  he  had  taken  the  pledge  from  the  priest,  but 
it  "  had  not  worked."  It  was  evidently  the  fault 
of  the  priest  or  of  the  pledge.  His  conversation 
with  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  gave  him  hopes  that 
a  pledge  administered  by  her  might  prove  more 
potent.  Religion  was  a  science  as  unfamiliar  to 
him  as  calculus,  but  he  was  convinced  that  without 
its  assistance  a  pledge  was  an  absurdity.  So  he 
knelt  with  her  and  in  words  whose  earnestness  and 
sincerity  made  up  for  their  theological  ambiguity, 
sought  the  power  to  keep  his  promise. 


THE   GLORY   IN   THE   GLOOM       132 

When  this  preliminary  step  had  been  achieved, 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  found  rooms  for  him  in 
Hamilton  Street.  The  neighbourhood  was  not 
choice  in  this  most  disreputable  street  in  the  ward, 
but  she  selected  the  rooms  not  for  their  social 
prestige  or  external  charm,  but  because  the  rent 
was  but  $7.50  a  month.  She  furnished  them  with 
the  rudimental  equipment  for  housekeeping,  and 
the  Blacks  and  their  four  children  moved  in.  The 
best  she  could  do  in  the  way  of  work  was  to  secure 
for  Black  the  chance  to  clean  up  a  down-town 
office  every  morning  at  a  wage  of  $2.50  a  week, 
and,  starting  with  this,  he  had  made  a  most  heroic 
effort  to  maintain  his  home.  But  to  support  a 
family  on  $2.50  a  week  and  pay  a  rent  of  $7.50 
a  month  requires  more  necromancy  than  heroism. 
Black  tried  every  means  and  exhausted  every  ex- 
pedient. He  would  hang  around  the  market  and 
pick  up  here  and  there  a  fish  that  had  been  repudi- 
ated by  the  dealers,  and  carry  it  home  in  triumph 
to  satisfy  the  little  mouths  that  were  always  clam- 
ouring for  food.  He  tramped  the  streets  in  every 
unoccupied  hour,  looking  for  a  chance  to  earn  a 
few  pennies  to  buy  bread.  But  there  was  never 
enough,  and  each  day  he  came  back  to  face  the 
reproaches  of  his  pale  wife  and  listen  to  the  la- 
ments of  his  little  ones,  who  were  always  hungry 
and  ailing.  It  was  a  hard  enough  trial  of  faith 
for  a  church  warden  to  behave  with  becoming  self- 
control  in  that  breathless  sweltering  heat,  and  for 


134  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

a  man  goaded  by  despair  and  unreasonable  re- 
proaches, and  maddened  by  an  unsatisfied  appetite, 
it  required  a  self-denying  fortitude  little  short  of 
the  miraculous  to  return  on  pay-day,  past  the  long 
row  of  saloons  with  the  odour  of  alcohol  heavy  in 
the  air,  and  bring  back  untouched  every  penny  of 
his  earnings.  Like  some  sensitive  instrument,  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  felt  the  steadily  increas- 
ing tension.  To-day  was  his  pay-day,  and  she 
knew  it  would  be  a  crisis  in  his  life.  There  was 
for  him  no  middle  ground.  One  glass  meant  mad- 
ness and  utter  ruin. 

These  were  the  reasons  that  as  soon  as  she  was 
free  that  afternoon  she  had  hurried  as  swiftly  as 
her  feet  would  carry  her  to  the  tenement  in  Ham- 
ilton Street.  Now  she  was  searching  Mrs. 
Black's  face  in  the  hope  of  being  assured  that 
her  dark  anticipations  had  been  unfounded.  But 
Mrs.  Black  was  never  what  could  be  called  a  cheer- 
ful or  animated  person.  On  her  happiest  days  she 
stood  with  slouching  shoulders  and  watery  eyes 
and  a  deprecatory  smile  on  her  drooping  mouth, 
and  her  attitude  was  as  depressing  to  the  observer 
as  the  sight  of  a  rain-drenched  cypress  in  a  bog. 
To-day  she  overflowed  with  tragedy.  There 
seems  to  exist  among  the  poorest  the  consciousness 
that  for  them  the  only  chance  of  playing  an  heroic 
or  important  part  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  lies  in 
some  desperate  calamity  or  crime,  and  Mrs.  Black 
was  uplifted  by  the  sense  that  she  was  the  heroine 


THE    GLORY    IN    THE   GLOOM       135 

of  an  important  drama.  In  this  role  of  leading 
lady  her  face  lost  its  expression  of  weary  discour- 
agement and  acquired  a  tragic  animation.  She 
wasted  no  breath  in  greetings,  but  plunged  at  once 
to  the  crisis. 

"  He's  gone  back  to  the  drink!  "  she  cried.  "  I 
always  knew  he  would!  I've  been  a  tellin'  him  so 
every  day  since  he  swore  off !  To-day  he  got  that 
mad  at  me  fer  sayin'  it,  that  he  run  off  and  drank 
to  get  the  nerve  to  answer  me  back.  That's  the 
talk  he  gives  me.  An'  he  comes  back  and  tells  me 
I'm  a  liar  and  he'll  prove  it.  An'  when  I  tells  him, 
what  else  could  I  expect  from  him  wid  a  low-down 
drinkin'  mother,  and  no  one  knowin'  his  father,  he 
ups  and  calls  me  all  the  names  —  you  never  heard 
such  langwidges!  He  was  somethin'  fierce! 
Such  a  row  he  made  the  neighbours  all  come  runnin' 
in,  and  then  off  he  goes  like  a  crazy  man.  I  was 
scared  o'  me  life,  and  I  run  up  stairs  to  me  sister, 
Mrs.  Summers,  on  the  top  floor.  Well,  sure 
enough,  after  gettin'  a  drink  or  two,  back  he  comes. 
I'd  locked  the  door  o'  me  house,  and  I  hears  him  a 
poundin'  and  a  cursin'  and  me  sister  calls  out  to 
him  from  the  entry  above  to  stop  his  noise.  Wid 
that  he  begins  to  call  her  all  the  names,  shoutin'  so 
all  the  neighbours  could  hear.  An'  me  pore  old 
mither  —  sure  he  said  she  was  nothin'  but  a  dirty 
old  —  savin'  your  prisince,  I'd  niver  be  tellin'  you 
the  words  what  he  said.  An'  me  sister,  she  tells 
him  mighty  plain  who  was  his  father  and  his  grand- 


136  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

mother  and  all  the  rest  of  his  family.  An'  wid 
that  he  comes  a  rushin'  up  the  stairs,  an1  me  sister 
who'd  been  washin'  and  was  standin'  over  her  tubs 
in  the  entry, —  I'll  not  be  sayin'  she  hadn't  been 
drinkin'  a  bit  too, —  she  yells :  '  Sure  he's  comin' 
to  murdher  us !  '  and  she  picks  up  a  tub  full  o' 
water  wid  both  hands  and  gives  it  a  heave  over  the 
balusters  right  on  top  of  him.  You  should  'ave 
heard  the  row!  The  tub  lit  on  his  hand,  and 
smashed  up  two  of  his  fingers,  and  the  soap-suds 
covered  him  wid  lather  till  he  looked  like  the  wild 
man  o'  Borneo.  I  never  see  such  a  lookin'  thing 
in  all  me  life.  An'  yell !  —  say  ye  could  'ave 
heard  him  clean  to  the  Battery!  The  neighbours 
caught  him  and  shoved  him  down  stairs,  and  him 
swearin'  he'd  buy  a  pistol  and  come  back  and  shoot 
us  all!" 

This  was  the  drama,  rehearsed  with  many 
shakes  of  the  head  and  duckings  of  the  tongue. 
It  was  a  sad  ending,  this  hideous  drunken  brawl, 
to  all  the  plans  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  made. 
Yet  after  all  she  could  not  help  feeling  a  bit  proud 
of  Black  after  all.  Six  months  of  starvation  and 
dubious  fish,  combined  with  a  complaining  wife  and 
four  ailing  children,  is  a  stern  test  for  any  hero. 
Even  a  Siegfried  might  have  failed  to  meet  it. 
At  any  rate  he  had  not  disappointed  his  wife, 
whose  self-satisfaction  in  being  able  to  say,  "  I  told 
you  so,"  seemed  undimmed  by  any  consciousness 
that  it  was  she  who  had  driven  him  back  to  "  the 


THE   GLORY   IN   THE   GLOOM       137 

drink."  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  could  only 
regret  that  her  influence  had  not  been  constant 
enough  to  counteract  this  unfailing  stimulus  of 
pessimistic  suggestion.  There  was  nothing  to  be 
done  now  but  to  stand  up  and  try  to  repair  the 
damage.  She  provided  that  the  terror-stricken 
wife  should  take  refuge  with  Mrs.  Kiley,  another 
sister  who  lived  two  blocks  away  in  Monroe 
Street,  and  went  home  to  spend  an  anxious  night. 
Black,  however,  felt  no  need  of  assistance  or 
pity.  The  alcohol  burnt  in  his  brain  like  a  flame. 
He  was  no  longer  a  helpless,  ragged  wretch,  kicked 
out  of  offices  when  he  asked  for  work,  and  sneak- 
ing around  the  markets  to  pick  up  refuse.  He  was 
a  giant;  he  could  handle  an  army  of  policemen 
with  one  hand!  Moreover,  he  had  a  great  voca- 
tion: to  purge  the  world  of  a  false  woman  whom 
he  had  once  thought  the  most  charming  and  fas- 
cinating of  creatures.  He,  too,  was  impressed  by 
dramatic  possibilities.  Here  was  a  thing  to  be 
played  in  the  Windsor  Theatre  upon  the  Bowery. 
He  drew  his  money  and  bought  a  pistol.  He 
loaded  the  pistol,  and  sought  his  house,  his  head 
up,  his  plans  made.  Now  he  had  power;  now  he 
could  defy  the  world !  He  crept  stealthily  up  the 
steps  of  his  house,  and  with  superb  dramatic  effect 
flung  open  the  door  of  his  room  and  shouted: 
"  Prepare  to  meet  thy  God!  "  He  had  seen  the 
words  hung  as  a  motto  in  Dennett's  ten-cent  res- 
taurant underneath  a  sign,  "  Mince  pie,  five  cents." 


i38  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

The  association  with  the  pie  had  not  seemed  sig- 
nificant to  him  and  the  words  struck  him  as  impres- 
sive and  appropriate.  But  there  was  no  answer. 
The  room  was  empty.  He  waited  sometime  for 
his  wife's  return,  planning  out  a  dramatic  crisis  that 
would  astonish  the  world  when  reported  in  The 
Journal.  Then  when  it  grew  late  and  Mrs.  Black 
still  did  not  appear,  he  thought  of  Mrs.  Kiley's 
house,  and  to  Mrs.  Kiley's  house  he  hurried,  his 
exaltation  increasing  as  the  end  drew  near. 

Mrs.  Kiley  lived  in  a  rear  house  on  the  ground 
floor.  Black  entered  the  house  in  front,  and 
passed  through  the  hall  to  the  court  behind. 
Should  he  call  her  out,  he  wondered,  and  shoot  her 
without  warning?  No,  she  must  have  time  to  re- 
flect on  her  sins,  and  to  realise  that  her  doom  had 
come  at  last  at  the  hands  of  ah  innocent  and  aveng- 
ing husband.  He  looked  out  through  the  door 
into  the  court  upon  which  Mrs.  Kiley's  windows 
opened.  There  in  the  open  window  sat  Mrs. 
Black,  dishevelled  and  ragged  as  usual.  Now  was 
his  chance !  He  stepped  forth  imitating  as  well 
as  he  could  the  voice  of  the  hero  at  the  Windsor 
Theatre,  he  shouted:  "Are  you  ready  to  die?  " 
and  pointed  his  pistol  directly  at  her.  The  effect 
equalled  his  most  ardent  expectations.  Mrs. 
Black  turned  and  saw  the  pistol.  Her  sallow  face 
turned  pasty  white,  and  shriek  after  shriek  filled 
the  court.  Mrs.  Kiley  screamed.  The  neigh- 
bours came  rushing  out,  but  before  any  of  them 


THE    GLORY    IN    THE   GLOOM       139 

could  move,  there  was  a  loud,  sharp  report,  and 
Mrs.  Black  sank  to  the  floor  with  a  groan.  The 
screams  redoubled,  and  from  a  dozen  doors  men 
rushed  out  upon  the  avenging  husband. 

In  a  moment  it  appeared  that  Mrs.  Black  was 
only  frightened.  The  bullet  had  passed  over  her 
head  and  had  struck  into  the  wall.  As  the  men 
rushed  toward  him  to  seize  him,  Black  stood  look- 
ing at  them  calmly  and  contemptuously.  Didn't 
they  know  that  he  could  destroy  the  whole  world 
with  one  hand?  He  would  show  them.  At  the 
sight  of  the  smoking  pistol  in  his  hand,  they  grew 
cautious.  One  of  them  slipped  out  and  called  a 
policeman,  and  while  Black  faced  the  men  from 
the  house,  the  policeman  slipped  up  behind  and 
wrenched  the  pistol  from  his  hand.  Black  turned 
on  him  with  such  sudden  ferocity  that  the  officer 
went  down  with  a  crash.  He  rapped  on  the  pave- 
ment and  in  a  moment  two  more  officers  appeared. 
A  fit  of  madness  was  upon  Black.  What  were 
policemen?  —  he  could  brush  them  away  like  flies! 
As  he  fell  upon  them,  his  slight  wiry  body  seemed 
charged  by  electric  force.  His  arms  flew  like  the 
spokes  of  a  driving  wheel.  The  policemen  felt  as 
though  a  cyclone  had  struck  them,  and  went  down 
like  ninepins  before  they  knew  what  had  happened. 
They  drew  their  clubs  and  attacked  him,  but  he 
was  insensible  to  pain.  He  made  no  effort  to  de- 
fend himself  as  their  blows  fell  on  his  head  and 
shoulders.     He  fought  with  fists  and  elbows,  with 


i4o  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

knees  and  feet,  with  head  and  teeth,  and  in  every 
movement  he  was  as  quick  as  an  infuriated  wild 
cat.  The  battle  went  on  witnessed  by  a  gathering 
crowd,  and  it  was  not  until  two  more  policemen 
came  up  that  they  mastered  him  and  carried  him 
off  writhing,  twisting,  biting,  like  a  captured  tiger, 
while  they  showered  blows  on  his  head. 

The  next  day  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  visited 
Black  in  the  Ludlow  Street  jail.  Through  the 
minister  she  had  interviewed  the  magistrate,  and 
told  him  the  story  of  Black's  struggle.  Mrs. 
Black  was  well  terrified,  but  she  agreed  not  to 
press  the  charge  if  her  husband  could  be  kept  away 
from  her.  The  magistrate  thought  that  he  might 
be  willing  to  suspend  sentence,  if  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  and  the  minister  would  agree  to  be  responsi- 
ble for  Black.  She  entered  the  gloomy  building, 
with  its  three  tiers  of  cells  built  up  within  the  en- 
closing walls  and  reached  only  by  little  iron  fire- 
escapes.  She  climbed  the  narrow  iron  stairs  ac- 
companied by  an  officer,  passed  along  the  iron  gal- 
lery, and  stood  at  last  in  front  of  a  grating  behind 
which  Black  was  confined.  She  peered  through  the 
bars  of  the  iron  cage,  and  there  in  the  darkness  of 
the  narrow  cell,  seated  on  the  pallet  on  one  side, 
she  saw  a  form  crouched  and  bent,  with  head  sunk 
low.  "Mr.  Black!"  she  called.  The  head 
lifted,  and  she  saw  not  a  face,  but  a  shapeless  mass 
of  bruises,  blackened,  swollen  eyes,  a  disfigured 
nose,  cut  lips  and  a  head  whose  numerous  gashes 


THE   GLORY   IN   THE   GLOOM       141 

had  soaked  with  blood  the  white  bandage  that 
swathed  it.  He  looked  up  at  her  in  a  dazed  way. 
The  exaltation  and  madness  was  gone.  His  great 
battle  with  the  social  order  was  over,  and  once 
more  he  was  only  a  poverty-stricken  wretch,  friend- 
less and  helpless  in  the  clutch  of  that  iron  monster, 
Law.  He  knew  that  he  had  incurred  a  penalty  of 
seven  years  in  jail. 

"  Looks  pretty  bad,"  said  the  officer. 
11  Pounded  his  head  against  the  iron  bars  like  a 
crazy  man  last  night." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  thought  it  more  prob- 
able that  his  wounds  were  the  result  of  the  usual 
punishment  inflicted  for  resistance,  but  she  said 
nothing.  She  spoke  quietly  with  Black  of  his 
escapade  and  her  disappointment,  but  he  only 
looked  at  her  dully. 

At  last  she  said:  "  If  I  can  get  the  judge  to 
let  you  off,  will  you  promise  to  do  just  what  I 
say?" 

A  sudden  flash  of  light  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Can  ye  get  me  off.  Oh,  can  ye  get  me  out  o* 
this,"  he  cried  in  a  low  frightened  voice.  "  Fer 
God's  sake  get  me  out  if  ye  can!  " 

11  Will  you  promise  never  to  touch  the  drink, 
and  to  live  on  the  West  Side,  and  never  to  see 
your  wife?  "  she  asked. 

"  Sure  I  will, —  I'll  promise  anything.  Oh,  fer 
God's  sake,  help  me  out  of  this!  " 

"  Remember  if  you  touch  a  drop  of  liquor  or 


142  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

are  seen  with  your  wife,  even  a  moment,  you  are 
liable  to  be  sent  back  to  jail  on  the  instant." 

"  I  won't  never  break  my  promise,  so  help  me 
God,"  he  muttered. 

Then  while  curious  faces  were  peering  through 
the  gratings  of  the  neighbouring  cells,  he  repeated 
after  her  the  solemn  promise  to  take  up  again  the 
dreary  struggle  for  existence  that  he  had  just 
abandoned  to  play  his  part  in  the  drama  of  his 
disastrous  battle  with  the  social  order.  The  mag- 
istrate was  inclined  to  think  that  when  his  fears 
wore  off,  he  would  return  to  his  evil  habits,  but 
when  Black  appeared  before  him,  he  delivered  to 
him  a  fatherly  lecture  on  his  misdemeanour. 
Black  was  dismissed  under  suspended  sentence,  and 
he  went  out  bewildered,  hardly  able  to  realise  his 
good  fortune.  He  had  seen  himself  surrounded 
by  those  iron  walls  for  seven  long  years  and  now 
here  he  was,  a  free  man,  jostled  by  the  swarming 
Jews  of  Grand  Street. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  found  rooms  for  him 
on  the  West  Side,  and  before  long  secured  work 
which  brought  him  better  pay.  It  seemed  like  a 
modern  miracle,  but  Black  kept  his  word. 

A  month  or  so  later  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
was  walking  home  from  an  evening  meeting.  It 
was  a  glorious  moonlight  night,  and  after  the  in- 
tense heat  of  the  day,  the  people  of  the  tenements 
were  enjoying  it  to  the  full.  Sidewalks  were  filled 
with  laughing  couples,  and  doorsteps  were  crowded 


THE    GLORY    IN    THE    GLOOM       143 

with  loosely  clad  housewives  gossiping  with  their 
neighbours.  On  a  step  just  at  the  corner  sat  a 
young  couple;  so  absorbed  in  one  another  that  they 
caught  the  attention  of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 
How  could  there  be  romance  in  lives  such  as  theirs, 
she  wondered,  or  any  possibility  of  escape  from 
the  dull  facts  of  poverty  and  hunger  and  ceaseless 
toil?  The  man's  arm  stole  around  the  woman 
and  he  drew  her  gently  toward  him.  As  the 
woman  moved,  the  moon  shone  full  upon  her  face, 
and  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  astonished  to 
recognise  the  drooping  mouth  and  pale  cheeks  of 
Mrs.  Black.  But  the  watery  eyes  seemed  to  shine 
with  an  unaccustomed  light,  and  her  face  in  the 
moonlight  looked  almost  pretty.  The  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  took  a  step  forward,  and  saw  the  face 
of  the  man  beside  her.  She  knew  the  clear  cut 
features  and  keen  eyes  in  a  moment.  It  was  Black 
himself. 

The  thought  of  rebuking  Black  never  once  en- 
tered the  mind  of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  She 
did  not  send  him  back  to  jail.  She  went  quietly 
on  her  way,  with  a  sort  of  exultation  in  her  heart, 
to  know  that  even  in  the  midst  of  degradation  and 
hunger,  hatred  and  murder,  the  love  of  a  man  for 
his  wife  is  a  thing  strong  enough  and  beautiful 
enough  to  conquer  fear  and  hate  and  the  dread  of 
weary  toil,  and  to  cover  them  over  with  the  mystic 
glory  of  romance. 

Not  long  after,  a  pleasant  set  of  rooms  in  a 


144  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

street  near  by  was  secured,  and  Black  and  his 
family  were  established  to  start  again  the  great 
struggle  together,  this  time  with  better  chance  of 
success.  And  until  the  strength  of  the  brave  man 
yielded  at  last  to  the  dread  disease  that  haunts  the 
tenements,  that  home  continued  to  be  a  joy  to  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 


XV 

THE    BRIGHT    SIDE 

u  To  be  blind  is  to  see  the  bright  side  of  life" 

—  Helen  Keller. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  conducting  the 
minister  and  a  group  of  singers  from  the  church 
on  one  of  their  Sunday  afternoon  tours.  The 
house  they  entered  was  a  queer  old  edifice,  built  of 
brick  and  standing  on  a  prominent  corner,  but  its 
sadly  dilapidated  walls  had  given  up  all  pretensions 
to  the  pride  of  life.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
ran  lightly  up  the  ancient  staircase,  on  which  chaos 
had  left  its  marks,  and  soon  her  slender  form  dis- 
appeared in  the  dark  attic  hall.  The  others 
groped  their  wray  after  her  and  presently  found 
themselves  in  a  large  gloomy  front  room.  The 
shutters  were  closed  and  the  windows  shut,  and 
the  air  was  heavy  with  the  odour  of  unwashed 
clothes  and  rags  and  greasy  garments.  A  shrill 
barking  greeted  the  visitors,  and  a  miserable  little 
black  terrier  rushed  out  and  began  excitedly  to 
worry  their  ankles. 

The  minister  threw  open  the  shutters,  and  the 
light  shone  in  upon  an  aged  woman  sitting  crouched 
in  a  huge  broken  armchair.     On  the  face  of  the 

145 


146  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

woman  was  the  strained,  anxious  look  characteristic 
of  the  blind,  and  she  turned  her  sightless  eyes 
from  side  to  side,  as  though  following  the  un- 
wonted steps  and  commotion  in  her  silent  chamber. 
She  tried  to  struggle  to  her  feet  to  meet  her  guests, 
but  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  at  her  side  with  a 
greeting  of  sympathy,  and  bade  her  keep  her  seat. 
At  the  sound  of  her  visitor's  voice,  a  light  came 
into  the  sightless  face.  She  seemed  to  see  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  in  each  tone  and  inflection,  as 
others  saw  her  soul  in  the  high  brow  and  aquiline 
nose,  and  in  the  firm  lips  and  deep  set  eyes.  For 
her  voice  was  one  of  those  that  seems  to  thrill 
with  a  thousand  familiar  associations, —  a  voice 
that  one  has  heard  from  earliest  childhood,  so  soft 
in  sympathy  and  so  firm  in  command. 

"  Is  your  son  here?  "  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
asked.  She  had  just  equipped  the  old  woman's 
son  with  a  new  outfit  of  wearing  apparel,  complete 
even  to  necktie  and  collar. 

"  He's  not  here,  but  he  promised  to  come,"  said 
the  old  woman.  "  He's  a  good  boy  to  me.  He's 
all  I  have.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  with- 
out him.  He  takes  care  of  me,  and  cooks  for  me, 
and  keeps  the  house  clean.  I  can't  do  nothing 
now  but  sit  still.  It's  a  hard  thing  to  be  blind," 
she  added  with  a  sigh  and  then  her  face  bright- 
ening, "  But  there  ain't  many  that  have  a  boy  like 
mine  to  take  care  of  them." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  looked  around  the 


THE   BRIGHT   SIDE  147 

room.  It  did  not  look  as  if  it  had  been  cleaned  in 
years.  A  dirty  comforter  or  two  lay  where  they 
had  been  thrown  in  the  corners.  The  floor  was 
littered  with  soiled  rags  and  broken  crockery  and 
bones.  The  wretched  little  terrier  who  was  never 
taken  out  had  added  to  the  unspeakable  filth  of  the 
place.  The  furniture  had  once  been  handsome, 
but  the  upholstery  was  soiled  and  torn  and  the  cur- 
tains ragged. 

11  Yes,  he's  a  good  boy,"  the  old  woman  went 
on.  "  I  never  could  live  here  if  he  didn't  clean  it 
up  and  look  out  for  everything  for  me." 

"  Didn't  you  own  this  house  once?  "  asked  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  I  had  plenty  of 
money  then,  and  owned  this  house  and  the  one 
over  the  way,  but  my  boy  is  unlucky.  He's  good 
to  his  mother,  but  he's  very  unlucky,  and  somehow 
all  the  money's  gone  now,  and  we  had  to  sell  the 
house  and  move  to  the  attic  here.  But  I  kept  all 
my  best  furniture,  and  you  see  I'm  quite  fine  up 
here."  And  the  sightless  eyes  travelled  proudly 
around  the  room  over  the  furniture  and  curtains 
and  pictures,  that  in  her  sight  still  retained  their 
former  elegance. 

Just  then  there  was  an  uncertain  step  in  the  hall 
and  the  door  opened  and  the  "  boy "  entered. 
The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  looked  at  him  aghast. 
He  was  a  man  of  about  30,  clad  in  ragged  trou- 
sers that  a  torn  belt  confined  with  some  uncertainty 


148  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

about  the  waist,  a  rusty  cutaway  coat,  soiled  and 
torn,  and  a  dirty  yellow  shirt  that  had  no  collar  and 
was  open  at  the  throat.  His  face  was  unshaven, 
and  his  hair  unbrushed.  He  hung  his  head,  and 
looked  about  with  shifty  eyes. 

"  Is  it  my  boy?  M  said  the  old  woman,  her  voice 
thrilling  with  pride  and  joy.  "  I'm  so  glad  he's 
come.  I  want  you  to  know  my  boy,"  she  said  to 
the  minister.  "  There  aren't  many  poor  blind 
mothers  as  have  so  fine  a  boy  to  look  after  them 
and  take  care  of  them.  I  can't  thank  God  enough 
for  what  he's  left  me  when  he  took  away  my 
sight,"  and  a  tear  stole  from  the  sightless  eyes  and 
trickled  down  the  furrowed  cheek.  "  But  where 
are  the  clothes?"  said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
to  him.  "  I  lost  'em.  I  had  bad  luck,"  said  the 
"  boy,"  sotto  voce  and  looking  at  her  with  his 
shifty  eyes.  As  he  spoke,  they  noticed  that  his 
breath  reeked  with  vile  alcohol.  The  mother 
caught  the  last  words.  "  Yes,  poor  boy,  he  always 
has  bad  luck.  I  don't  know  why  the  world  is  so 
hard  on  him.     Seems  as  if  God  was  against  him." 

They  had  come  to-  hold  a  little  meeting  at  the 
old  lady's  request.  They  found  seats  on  the 
ragged  furniture,  and  sang  the  old  songs  she 
wanted  to  hear  and  read  some  comforting  words. 
Then  came  the  prayer,  and  each  looked  anxiously 
about  for  an  available  spot  on  that  unspeakably 
dirty  floor,  where  they  might  kneel  without  per- 
manent damage  to  their  garments.     They  finished 


THE   BRIGHT   SIDE  149 

the  meeting  successfully,  though  the  terrier  was 
the  cause  of  some  incoherence  in  the  petitions  when 
he  jumped  suddenly  upon  the  minister's  back  as  he 
knelt  in  prayer,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  more 
unregenerate  youth  in  the  party,  as  they  peered 
between  their  fingers  to  discover  the  cause  of  the 
hiatus  in  the  minister's  ideas,  and  discovered  his 
desperate  efforts  to  dislodge  the  little  beast.  Even 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  could  not  keep  her  eyes 
fast  closed  during  the  distracting  scene,  and  the 
sightless  eyes  of  the  old  lady  were  the  only  ones 
that  saw  nothing  to  mar  the  solemnity  of  the  little 
service.  When  they  had  finished  she  thanked 
them  for  their  prayers  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  say- 
ing that  it  was  many,  many  years  since  she  had  been 
to  church. 

"  And  I  have  so  much  to  thank  God  for,  I  know 
I  ought  to  go,"  she  added.  "  You  see  my  money's 
all  gone  now,  and  if  I  hadn't  a  boy  who  would  take 
care  of  his  old  mother  and  bring  her  in  something 
to  eat,  it  would  go  hard  with  me." 

"  Did  you  get  that  jelly,  I  sent  you?  "  asked  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  casually. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  I've  got  some  of 
it  still." 

"  That  isn't  much  of  a  recommendation  for  it," 
said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  her  eyes  twinkling. 
"  I'm  afraid  it  didn't  taste  very  good." 

"  Oh,  it  is  delicious,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  I 
never  tasted  anything  so  good.     I  don't  want  to 


150  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

use  it  up,  so  I  take  a  teaspoonful  and  put  it  in  a  cup 
of  hot  water."  She  interrupted  herself.  "  You 
see  my  son  has  been  very  unlucky  lately  and  I 
haven't  had  any  tea,  but  the  jelly  and  water  was 
even  better  than  tea." 

"  What  did  you  have  to  eat  with  it?  "  asked  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  Oh,  my  boy  always  brings  me  a  bit  of  bread, 
that  is  almost  always,  except  when  he's  very  un- 
lucky. Yes,  God  is  very  good  to  me,  and  I  hope 
you'll  thank  the  lady  that  sent  that  jelly,  and  tell 
her  I  enjoyed  it  a  whole  month." 

They  said  good-bye  and  started  down  the  dark 
stairs.  "  I  believe  the  poor  old  soul  has  lived  on 
that  jelly  and  water  the  past  three  weeks,"  said  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  I  had  no  idea  she  was  in 
want  of  food.  She  is  always  so  cheerful  and  never 
complains.  I  shall  send  her  in  a  good  meal  right 
away." 

"  Who  will  cook  it?"  asked  the  minister. 

"  I'll  run  in  and  cook  it  myself,"  she  answered. 
"  I  would  not  trust  it  to  that  son.  He  would  sell 
it  or  pawn  it,  as  he  did  his  clothes.  And  if  he 
didn't,  think  of  eating  anything  that  he  cooked!  " 
and  she  shuddered.  "  I  took  the  oculist  to  see 
her  this  week,"  she  went  on,  "  but  he  says  there 
is  no  hope.  She  can  never  regain  her  sight." 
And  the  minister  murmured  involuntarily,  "  Thank 
God." 


XVI 

A  MAN  WITH  FIVE  LIVES 

"  Won't  ye  come  down  ter  my  house  and  talk  wid 
me  husband?  Sure  he's  goin'  on  like  a  crazy  man 
and  I'm  scared  o'  me  life." 

Mrs.  Ferguson  stood  at  the  church  house  door, 
where  she  had  just  caught  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
as  she  was  sallying  forth  to  her  work.  As  she 
spoke  she  tried  to  hide  her  disordered  hair  be- 
neath the  grey  shawl  in  which  her  dumpy 
figure  was  wrapped.  Her  stout  round  face  was 
disturbed  from  its  customary  placidity,  and  her 
narrow,  pale  eyes,  peeping  out  above  fat  bulging 
cheeks,  surveyed  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  anx- 
iously. 

"  There's  no  one  he'll  listen  to  but  you  and  the 
minister,  and  he's  like  to  kill  himself  now,"  she 
went  on. 

"  Of  course  I'll  come,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer. 

She  stopped  to  leave  word  for  the  minister  and 
the  nurse  to  follow  her,  and  then  hurried  down  the 
street,  toward  the  river,  through  crowds  of  bare- 
foot, ragged  children  and  Jewish  merchants.  Mrs. 
Ferguson  lived  on  the  top  floor  of  a  miserable 

*5i 


152  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

tenement  in  Water  Street,  opposite  some  great 
warehouses  and  factories. 

As  she  and  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  made  their 
way  up  the  dark,  narrow  stairs,  and  drew  near 
the  room,  they  heard  muttered  curses,  then  a  shout 
and  a  heavy  thud.  They  threw  open  the  door  of 
a  bare  room,  scantily  furnished  with  a  bed,  a  table, 
a  stove  and  a  few  chairs.  In  the  middle  of  the 
room  stood  a  heavily  built  man  of  medium  height 
dressed  in  the  soiled  blue  jumper  and  belted  trou- 
sers commonly  worn  by  teamsters.  He  was  mut- 
tering to  himself,  and  as  they  entered,  he  turned 
suddenly  and  struck  a  furious  blow  behind  him. 

"  There !  you  cursed  Dago !  I  gave  you  one 
that  time !  What  do  you  mean,  you  robbers, 
creeping  around  behind  me  like  that?  You  can't 
stick  no  knife  in  my  back.  I'll  show  you  if  you 
can,"  and  he  made  a  furious  rush  across  the  room 
striking  madly  with  both  arms. 

His  heavy-featured  face  was  distorted,  his  pale 
blue  eyes  rolled  wildly  under  bushy  brows,  and  his 
lips  moved  convulsively  beneath  his  thick  brown 
moustache. 

"  You  see,  he's  got  the  D.  T.'s  bad,"  said  Mrs. 
Ferguson  in  a  whisper. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  took  a  step  forward. 
She  looked  unusually  trim  and  slight  in  her  close- 
fitting  suit  of  dark  blue.  She  held  her  head  high, 
and  her  lips  were  straight  and  determined,  though 
she  spoke  lightly,  as  if  in  casual  friendly  greeting. 


A    MAN   WITH    FIVE    LIVES         153 

11  Good  morning,  Mr.  Ferguson,"  she  said.  "  I 
am  glad  I  found  you  at  home  this  morning. 
I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  see  you  in  a  long 
time." 

The  man  paused,  turned  and  faced  her.  He 
passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes  and  brushed  back  the 
tangled  hair  from  his  brow.  The  wild  expression 
faded  from  his  face,  and  he  looked  at  her  with  a 
quiet,  benevolent  smile,  and  spoke  in  his  usual  slow, 
gentle  manner. 

"  Why  how  d'ye  do,  ma'am,  I  didn't  see  you 
was  here.  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  Come  in  and  sit 
down." 

"  I  see  you're  off  from  work  to-day,"  she  went 
on  as  she  took  a  seat,  watching  him  closely  with 
her  deep-set  eyes,  as  if  she  was  trying  to  hold  him 
with  their  gaze. 

He  returned  her  look  with  a  pleased  frankness. 
"  Yes,  I  took  a  day  off.  I  wanted  a  rest."  A 
sudden  expression  of  fear  came  into  his  eyes,  and 
he  looked  furtively  to  the  corner  where  the  bed 
stood.  "  But  these  cursed  Dagos  give  me  no 
peace.  They  follow  me  everywhere,"  he  said 
savagely. 

"  I  don't  see  them  now,"  she  said  quietly.  "  I 
think  they  must  have  gone  away." 

He  gave  a  sudden  shout.  "  Look !  there's  one 
under  my  bed,"  and  he  rushed  furiously  across  the 
room. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  stepped  swiftly  to  his 


i54  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

side,  and  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  as  he 
stooped  to  look  under  the  bed. 

u  Come  and  sit  down,"  she  said.  "  I'll  watch 
and  see  that  no  one  will  hurt  you.  I  can  warn  you 
if  any  one  is  creeping  up  behind.  Never  mind  the 
man  under  the  bed.     He  can't  do  any  harm." 

Ferguson  went  back  meekly  and  took  his  seat. 
The  madness  had  faded  from  his  eyes  and  he  was 
placid  again. 

"  I  don't  seem  to  see  them  any  more  now  you're 
here,"  he  said.  "  I  guess  you  scared  them  away." 
He  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  I'm  glad  they've 
gone.  They've  been  trying  to  murder  me  all  day. 
I've  had  lots  of  narrow  escapes  in  my  time,  and 
I'd  hate  to  be  done  up  by  a  rascally  Dago." 

"  What  escapes  have  you  had?  "  asked  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer,  hoping  to  keep  his  attention  until 
the  hallucinations  should  be  dissipated. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  it's  a  queer  thing  for  sure, 
but  I've  been  killed,  as  you  might  say,  four  times 
already.  The  first  time,  I  was  workin'  in  a  grain 
elevator.  They  was  hoistin'  the  grain  up  in  a  lift, 
and  I  was  up  at  the  top  of  the  shaft  to  unload  it. 
You  know  how  tall  them  grain  elevators  is,  taller'n 
a  six-story  tenement.  Well,  I  went  to  the  edge  of 
the  shaft  to  look  over  and  see  if  the  car  at  the 
bottom  wasn't  pretty  near  loaded.  I  was  hangin' 
over  the  edge  and  lookin'  way  down  in  the  dark 
at  the  men  piling  oats  on  the  car,  when  of  a  sudden, 
one  foot  slipped  on  a  pile  of  oats  on  the  edge.     I 


A  MAN  WITH   FIVE   LIVES         155 

made  a  grab  to  save  meself,  but  it  was  too  late. 
Down  I  went  into  the  dark  old  shaft.  Well,  say, 
now !  It  was  a  great  fall  for  sure !  I  thought  I 
was  a  dead  man,  of  course.  Seems  like  I  thought 
over  all  me  sins  and  everythin'  I  ever  done,  while 
I  was  a  fallin'  down  that  there  dark  hole.  And  all 
the  while  the  floor  was  comin'  nearer,  and  I  was 
thinking  i  In  a  minute  now,  there's  an  end  of  you/ 
and  then  I  struck,  and  thinks  I,  '  Now,  I'm  dead.' 
Well,  it  was  all  dark,  and  I  thought  I  must  be  bur- 
ied deep  in  the  earth.  I  could  feel  it  all  around 
me,  in  me  mouth  and  in  me  eyes.  And  I  began  to 
try  to  get  it  out  of  me  mouth.  And  then  I  found 
that  me  hands  were  stretched  up  above  me  head, 
and  I  couldn't  get  them  down.  And  while  I  was 
suffocatin'  and  tryin'  to  breathe,  I  felt  somethin' 
catch  hold  of  me  hands  and  it  pulled  and  pulled, 
and  the  next  minute  up  I  come,  and  there  I  was 
sittin'  in  the  oats  in  the  car  at  the  bottom  of  the 
shaft.  I  went  in  feet  first  —  clean  over  me  head 
and  over  me  hands  that  were  stretched  up.  And 
they  dug  in  and  found  me  hands,  and  pulled  me 
out.  I  was  near  smothered,  but  I  wasn't  hurt,  not 
even  a  little  bit." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  expressed  her  amaze- 
ment at  this  astonishing  escape,  and  seeing  his  eyes 
begin  to  wander  anxiously  toward  the  bed,  she 
asked:  "  You  say  there  were  other  escapes. 
Tell  me  the  next  one." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  that  was  some  years  later. 


156  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

I  was  livin'  in  a  tenement  down  in  New  Chambers 
Street,  next  the  coal-yard  there.  It  was  a  terrible 
hot  summer,  and  we  uster  go  up  on  the  roof  in  the 
afternoon  to  get  cooled  off.  There  wasn't  no 
railing  to  the  roof,  and  it  sloped  down  to  the  edge, 
so  the  old  woman,  she  didn't  like  it  much,  and 
she'd  sit  away  up  in  the  middle  where  it  was  hot. 
But  I  found  a  spot  down  near  the  edge  behind  a 
chimbley  where  it  was  cool.  One  afternoon,  I  got 
home  from  work  early  and  went  up  on  the  roof  to 
sit,  while  the  old  woman  was  getting  the  supper. 
There  was  two  or  three  women  settin'  around  up 
there,  and  I  went  down  to  my  chimbley  and  lay 
down,  and  in  a  minute  I  was  fast  asleep.  Well,  I 
must  have  had  a  bad  dream  and  jumped,  fer  the 
next  thing  I  knew  I  was  just  rollin'  off  the  edge  of 
the  roof.  I  gave  a  yell  like  an  Indian,  and 
grabbed  at  the  eaves,  but  it  was  no  go.  The 
women  on  the  roof  screeched  and  yelled,  *  Fire ! 
Fire  I  '  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  but  it  didn't  stop 
me.  Down  I  went  through  the  air,  five  stories 
down!  Say,  but  I  was  scared!  I  thought,  c  This 
time  I'm  dead  for  sure!  Down  I  come  with  a 
bang,  and  then  all  was  dark.  Well,  the  next  thing 
I  knew,  I  felt  some  one  pourin'  water  over  me,  and 
there  I  was  sittin'  on  a  great  pile  of  this  black  coal 
dust  in  the  coal  yard,  with  a  lot  of  firemen  around 
squirting  me  with  a  hose.  Some  one  heard  the 
women  cry,  *  Fire !  '  and  turned  in  an  alarm.  The 
firemen  came  rushing  around,  and  some  one  told 


A  MAN   WITH   FIVE   LIVES         157 

them  I'd  just  fell  off  the  roof.  So  they  sees  there 
was  a  big  hole  in  the  pile  of  fine  coal  next  the  tene- 
ment, and  they  digs  me  out  and  washes  me  off  with 
a  hose.  I  was  a  sight  to  make  ye  scream,  but  it 
never  hurt  me  a  bit.  I  walked  up  and  ate  my 
supper  just  the  same  as  ever." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  ventured  to  imply 
that  there  might  be  some  inaccuracy  of  detail  in 
this  story. 

"  No,  I'm  givin'  it  to  ye  straight.  Sure  as  I 
stand  here,  it  happened  just  like  I'm  tellin'  ye. 
You  can  ask  me  wife." 

"  You  certainly  didn't  have  any  more  such  ad- 
ventures?" she  asked. 

"  Sure,  I  did,"  said  Ferguson.  "  The  next  hap- 
pened two  years  after  when  I  was  workin'  wid  the 
city.  They  put  me  on  one  of  the  scows  that  carries 
the  sewage  down  the  harbour.  I  had  to  make  the 
trip  every  day,  an'  I  never  liked  the  job  much. 
The  old  scow  had  a  mast  and  boom,  so  as  they 
could  rig  up  a  sail  when  the  wind  was  right  to  help 
the  tug  along.  Well,  one  day  the  water  was 
rough,  and  the  old  scow  was  bouncin'  and  sloppin' 
along  and  I  was  settin'  in  the  stern  pretendin'  to 
steer  her.  But  I  got  kinder  sleepy  with  the  rockin' 
of  the  boat,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew,  she  gave  a 
terrible  big  rock  and  the  boom  swung  clean  over 
and  caught  me  right  side  o'  the  head,  and  over  I 
went,  kersplash!  I  never  could  swim,  and  if  I 
could,  it  wouldn't  have  done  me  no  good,  I  was 


158  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

that  stunted.  But  the  man  on  the  tug  was  a  spry 
young  feller.  I  don't  understand  to  this  day  how 
he  done  it,  but  he  managed  to  swing  the  tug 
around,  and  he  caught  me  with  a  hook  just  as  I  was 
goin'  down  the  last  time.  That  was  a  terrible 
close  call,  and  it  took  him  an  age  to  get  the  water 
out  of  me  and  the  breath  into  me  again. 

"  I  took  to  the  shore  after  that  and  got  onto  the 
Street  Cleaning  Department.  I  went  around  with 
a  cart,  and  had  to  empty  them  big  cans  of  garbage 
along  the  street.  I  had  to  lift  the  can  —  it  was 
mighty  heavy,  you  can  bet  —  and  climb  up  on  the 
hub,  and  empty  it  into  the  cart.  Well,  one  day  it 
had  been  snowin'  and  freezing  and  things  was 
slippery.  I  caught  up  a  monstrous  heavy  can,  and 
climbs  up  on  the  hub  with  it  to  empty  it.  Just  as 
I  gets  it  up  above  me  head,  me  foot  slips  off  the 
hub,  and  down  I  comes  with  the  can  on  top  o'  me. 
Well,  what  happened,  I  don't  rightly  know.  They 
said  me  head  was  caught  between  the  hub  and  the 
can.  Anyway,  me  head  was  all  broken  and  splin- 
tered. They  carried  me  up  to  the  hospital,  and 
cut  out  all  the  broken  bone  and  splinters  and  put  in 
a  silver  top  to  me  skull.  You  can  see  the  scar  on 
the  top  o'  me  head,"  he  said,  pushing  aside  his 
tangled  hair,  and  showing  a  huge  bare  scar  in  the 
midst  of  it.  "  I  suppose,  that's  the  reason  I  gets 
so  queer  these  hot  days.  It  heats  up  the  silver  and 
I  gets  kind  o'  light  headed.  I'm  a  Democrat,  ye 
know,  and  the  boys  are  always  jollyin'  me  about 


A   MAN   WITH    FIVE    LIVES         159 

free  silver,  and  silver  on  the  brain.  I  think  that's 
the  reason  I  can't  drink.  The  drink  must  do  some- 
thing to  that  silver  plate,  and  it  sets  me  pretty 
nigh  crazy." 

"  I  asked  the  nurse  to  bring  down  some  medi- 
cine for  you,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 
"  You'll  take  it,  won't  you,  when  she  brings  it?  " 

"  Oh !  I  be  glad  to  get  anything  to  stop  me  head- 
aches.    They're  somethin'  fierce." 

He  was  talking  naturally  now,  and  seemed  free 
from  hallucination,  and  when  the  nurse  arrived 
with  the  medicine,  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was 
able  to  assure  him  that  all  danger  was  over  for 
the  present. 

It  was  some  months  later  that  Mrs.  Ferguson 
came  to  her  again.  She  was  in  tears,  and  even 
more  agitated  than  before. 

"  Me  husband  didn't  come  home  last  night,  an' 
I  can't  find  him  nowheres.  He  ain't  been  down  to 
his  work,  an'  the  police  don't  know  nothin'  about 
him.  Don't  seem  as  if  nothin'  could  have  hap- 
pened to  him.  He's  so  lucky,  he  always  seems  to 
get  out  of  every  scrape.  But  I'm  terrible  anxious. 
What  can  have  come  over  him?  " 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  did  her  best  to  con- 
sole her.  For  three  days  they  ransacked  the  city, 
but  they  found  no  trace  of  him.  On  the  third 
day  of  the  search  some  workmen,  who  were  work- 
ing at  a  dump,  under  a  wharf,  found  a  strange 
shape  floating  in  the  dark  water.     They  pulled  it 


160  BESIDE  THE   BOWERY 

ashore,  and  though  the  features  were  unrecognis- 
able, the  clothing  was  soon  identified  as  that  of 
Mr.  Ferguson.  He  had  entered  the  gates  of 
death  for  the  fifth  time,  and  this  time  he  had  not 
returned. 


XVII 

A    MODERN   MIRACLE 

Hamilton  Street  was  not  a  spot  where  one 
would  look  for  marvels  of  saintliness.  The  mira- 
cles that  seemed  appropriate  to  that  dismal  alley 
were  such  as  might  emanate  from  the  direct  inter- 
vention of  the  powers  of  darkness  that  seemed  ir- 
resistibly entrenched  behind  the  long  line  of  dirty 
•and  battered  tenements  and  ancient  decaying  dwel- 
ling houses.  Behind  the  walls  that  fronted  the 
streets  was  a  second  line  of  fortification,  a  row  of 
squalid  rear  houses,  some  of  which  were  mere 
tumble-down  sheds,  others  huge  crowded  hives, 
swarming  with  strange  life.  These  were  invisible 
from  the  street,  and  could  only  be  approached 
through  dark  tunnels  beneath  the  front  houses, 
each  of  which  led  into  a  narrow,  dirty  court  full 
of  refuse  and  children,  cats  and  babies  and  drunken 
sailors. 

As  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  passed  down  the 
narrow  dark  street,  she  could  not  shake  off  the 
sense  that  a  malevolent  foe  was  watching  like  some 
huge  octopus  with  baleful  gaze  from  behind  the 
close  shuttered  windows  of  the  disreputable  houses, 
ready  to  reach  out  a  slimy,  tentacled  arm  through 
the  swinging  side  door  of  some  dive  and  clutch  its 

161 


1 62  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

victim.  This  feeling  was  not  without  grounds. 
Here  was  the  spot  where  a  few  days  before,  a  man 
had  been  sandbagged;  there  at  the  corner  she  had 
seen  a  sailor  knocked  down  and  robbed;  here  on 
this  door  step  one  of  the  young  toughs  had  been 
shot  but  a  few  days  since  by  the  leader  of  a  rival 
set. 

Each  saloon  was  the  headquarters  of  a  gang 
which  lay  in  wait  for  hapless  sailors.  Only  a  few 
days  since  the  minister  had  met  a  crowd  of  them 
convoying  an  intoxicated  sailor  and  going  through 
his  pockets  at  the  same  time.  They  had  admin- 
istered knockout  drops  to  him,  as  he  was  too  vigor- 
ous an  old  salt  for  them  to  handle  while  he  was 
in  fighting  trim,  and  just  as  they  met  the  minister 
the  sailor  fell  unconscious  on  the  pavement.  The 
minister  requisitioned  an  empty  push  cart,  dumped 
the  senseless  man  into  it,  and  wheeled  him  away 
from  his  would-be  plunderers,  to  the  church,  where 
he  soon  came  to  himself  and  irritated  by  his  un- 
expected change  of  environment,  proceeded  to 
curse  the  priests  and  all  clergy  with  a  most  varied 
and  vivid  vocabulary. 

This  was  Hamilton  Street.  One  would  cer- 
tainly not  search  for  moral  strength  in  a  dirty 
rear  tenement  behind  one  of  these  saloons,  or  for 
spiritual  uplift  in  the  presence  of  an  ignorant  and 
corpulent  Irishwoman  who  had  been  brought  up 
among  brawls  and  street  fights,  to  know  no  other 
inspiration  than  that  of  the  beer  can.     Yet  it  was 


A   MODERN    MIRACLE  163 

to  such  a  spot  that  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  liked 
to  turn  when  her  work  had  been  especially  dis- 
couraging, and  she  never  failed  to  go  away  with 
a  sense  that  here  was  more  real  evidence  of  the 
force  that  lies  behind  religion  than  she  had  ever 
discovered  in  any  cathedral,  no  matter  how  impres- 
sive the  service. 

She  passed  on  down  the  street  in  front  of  win- 
dows with  broken  panes  whence  hideous  old  hags 
leered  at  her,  past  a  "  Black  and  Tan  Dive,"  which 
had  just  been  raided  by  the  police,  and  turned  in  at 
last  at  the  side  door  of  one  of  the  saloons.  She 
entered  a  dark  narrow  tunnel  leading  under  the 
building,  and  came  out  into  a  tiny  court  in  the  rear. 
Huge  tenements  rose  all  about  this  little  air  space, 
all  of  them  filled  with  ragged,  pale-faced  children, 
and  red-faced,  screaming  women,  and  jabbering 
foreigners  of  every  nationality.  Into  the  back  end 
of  the  court  a  little  house  had  been  squeezed,  which 
within  its  contracted  walls  accommodated  ten  or  a 
dozen  families.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  turned 
into  the  left-hand  basement  room.  Behind  the 
kitchen,  which  opened  on  the  court,  was  a  dark 
bedroom.  But  the  chief  light  in  this  miserable 
basement  came  from  a  face  within  it;  a  face  round 
as  the  moon  at  its  full,  and  crimson-tinted  as  the 
sunset.  Features  seemed  lost  in  the  ruddy  billows 
of  flesh.  No  scales  in  the  neighbourhood  had 
ever  ventured  to  test  the  weight  of  that  stout 
form,  but  it  was  assuredly  the  most  remarkable 


1 64  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

ever  seen  outside  of  a  museum.  The  woman 
greeted  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  with  a  gladness 
that  seemed  to  irradiate  the  dull  flesh. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you;  I  was  hopin'  you'd 
come,"  she  said,  with  a  deep  sigh  of  delight. 
11  I'm  so  glad  you  come." 

Her  voice  had  a  strange  quality,  a  depth  of  tone, 
an  intense  earnestness  and  directness  that  moved 
strangely  those  who  heard  her  speak.  It  was  per- 
haps her  absolute  simplicity  and  sincerity  that  gave 
her  words  the  charm  of  those  of  a  little  child. 
Standing  beside  her  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
seemed  more  slender  and  fragile  than  ever,  but 
her  firm  lips,  tightened  and  compressed  by  the  bur- 
den of  the  day's  work,  relaxed  in  a  smile,  and  the 
deep-set  eyes,  shadowed  by  the  pain  and  trouble 
she  had  witnessed,  brightened  with  a  responsive 
twinkle. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Hendrickson,  you  don't  need  me  any 
more,"  she  said.  "  You  see  I  come  to  you  now  to 
get  cheered  up." 

"  Sho'  now!  You're  laughin'  at  me,"  said  Mrs. 
Hendrickson,  with  a  jolly  little  giggle  that  shook 
her  sides.  "  I  was  feelin'  terrible  down-hearted 
this  morninV 

"  Why?  Have  you  had  a  hard  time  to-day?  " 
asked  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  terrible  hard  it  is 
for  me  to  be  good,"  she  said.  "  Every  time  I  go 
out  in  the  yard,  the  neighbours  call  me  names. 


I'lintu  by  J.  li.  Denison. 


A  RAID  IN  HAMILTON  STREET 


A    MODERN    MIRACLE  165 

They  scream  out,  '  You  black  Protestant !  '  l  You 
old  fake/  an'  oh,  I  can't  tell  you  all  the  vile  lang- 
widges  they  use !  It's  somethin'  fierce.  They 
curse  me  and  call  me  out  o'  me  name  because  I 
won't  drink  with  'em  no  more,  and  it  makes  me 
that  mad.  My!  I  get  crazy!  I  used  to  answer 
'em  back,  I  could  jaw  worse  than  any  o'  them,  but 
now  I  put  up  a  prayer  in  me  heart,  '  Lord,  help 
me !  '  I  says,  and  then  I  feel  all  quiet  an'  peaceful 
like,  an'  I  come  back  in  an'  never  say  a  word. 
They  don't  know  what  to  think  of  me,  I  guess," 
she  shook  with  a  jolly  little  laugh. 

11  How  is  Mr.  Hendrickson?  "  asked  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer. 

"  Oh,  he's  drinkin'  and  gamblin',  the  same's 
ever.  He  stops  in  at  the  saloon  in  front  and 
spends  more'n  half  his  money  on  the  stuff.  But 
when  he  comes  in,  I  have  the  room  all  neat  and 
clean,  and  a  nice  supper  for  him  and  I  never  says 
nothin'  to  him.  At  first  he  didn't  know  what  to 
make  of  it,  but  now  he  brings  in  the  beer,  and  tries 
to  make  me  drink  with  him.  He  knows  better, 
too.  He  was  brought  up  on  the  Bible,  and  he 
knows  a  lot  more'n  I  do.  If  he'd  only  try,  he'd 
be  a  heap  better'n  me." 

11  He  will  some  day,"  answered  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer.  "  You  know  there's  nothing  aggra- 
vates a  man  so  much  as  to  find  that  his  wife  is 
always  in  the  right.  He  can't  make  you  do  wrong 
now.     He  can't  even  make  you  get  angry  and  call 


166  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

him  names.  Pretty  soon  he'll  understand  that, 
and  then  you'll  win  out." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  answered,  "  but  it's  so  hard 
to  wait.  And  he's  terrible  cranky  when  he's  got 
the  drink  in  him.  Sometimes  I'm  scared  o'  me 
life  to  think  of  bein'  alone  with  him!  But  I  ain't 
alone.  There's  some  one  with  me  in  me  little 
room,  close  beside  me  here,  just  like  you  be.  It 
gives  me  such  a  peace  in  me  heart  —  you  don't 
know!" 

The  round  heavy  face  was  illumined  now  with 
a  light  that  made  the  coarse  features  almost  beauti- 
ful. It  was  strange  enough  and  hard  to  explain, 
but  there  was  something  behind  those  uncouth,  un- 
grammatical  sentences,  that  took  all  the  absurdity 
away  from  her  words.  No  one  could  listen  and 
not  feel  that  she  was  describing  something  that 
was  to  her  more  real  than  all  the  hard,  cruel  facts 
of  the  wretched  world  that  surrounded  her.  No 
one  could  look  into  that  face,  with  its  huge  cheeks 
and  double  chins  that  seemed  made  only  to  wake 
laughter  by  its  absurdities,  without  a  sense  that 
now  she  saw  something  that  the  rest  of  the  world 
did  not  see.  There  in  that  miserable  basement  be- 
hind the  saloon  in  the  presence  of  an  ignorant  un- 
couth Irishwoman,  the  unseen  world  suddenly  was 
made  real. 

One  Sunday  some  months  before,  a  hideous  sod- 
den mass  of  flesh,  reeking  with  vile  alcohol,  with 
bruised  face  and  swollen,  swinish  eyes,  had  stum- 


A   MODERN    MIRACLE  167 

bled  into  the  church  and  sat  down.  It  was  Mrs. 
Hendrickson.  Something  in  the  sermon  had 
touched  her.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  found 
her  weeping,  and  bending  over  the  brutish  face, 
with  her  delicate  hand  on  the  soiled,  heavy  shoul- 
der, she  had  spoken  a  few  words  of  sympathy  into 
ears  that  none  but  she  would  have  thought  capable 
of  hearing.  And  something  hidden  away  beneath 
that  coarse  mask  of  flesh  did  hear  and  respond. 

Nearly  every  day  since,  she  had  called  in  the 
wretched  basement  room,  and  had  seen  it  change 
gradually  from  filth  and  confusion  to  neatness  and 
cleanliness.  She  had  given  her  true  self  to  this 
ignorant,  degraded  creature.  She  had  shared  with 
this  darkened  mind  those  deep  convictions  that 
made  her  what  she  was,  never  doubting  but  that 
in  some  way  it  would  comprehend.  It  was  not  so 
much  that  she  talked  about  religion  and  what  it 
could  do.  There  in  the  dark  little  basement  she 
talked  with  Christ,  her  Master,  an  unseen  Pres- 
ence, a  power  to  her  more  efficient  than  the  degen- 
erate heredity  and  depraved  appetites  that  had 
mastered  this  wretched  soul,  and  as  she  listened, 
the  woman,  simple  and  ignorant  as  she  was,  came 
to  feel  that  Presence  in  as  real  a  fashion  as  did  the 
friend  who  spoke  with  Him.  Her  mind  was  that 
of  a  little  child,  and  she  received  every  truth  sim- 
ply and  without  question. 

Mrs.  Hendrickson  told  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  the  story  of  her  life.     She  had  been  brought 


168  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

up  in  a  wretched  hut  in  Ireland.  She  laughed  at 
her  own  ignorance. 

"  Why,  I  was  that  ignorant  when  I  first  come 
over,  that  I'd  never  seen  a  stove,  and  when  they 
told  me  to  build  a  fire,  sure,  I  built  it  on  top  o'  the 
stove!"  and  she  shook  all  over  with  silent 
laughter. 

But  there  were  tragic  parts  to  the  story.  She 
had  come  a  simple-hearted  child,  but  she  soon  be- 
gan to  learn  in  this  new  land.  She  started  to 
drink  and  curse  and  carouse.  After  she  married 
Hendrickson,  things  went  from  bad  to  worse. 
They  were  a  strangely  assorted  pair.  He  was  as 
tall  and  thin  and  morose  as  she  was  stout  and  jolly. 
He  was  a  cooper  of  Scandinavian  descent,  who 
made  good  wages,  but  spent  all  his  money  on 
drink  and  gambling.  She  surpassed  him,  how- 
ever, when  it  came  to  drinking.  All  day  long  the 
beer  can  came  and  went  in  her  room,  until  she  was 
nothing  but  a  sodden,  brutish  mass  of  flesh.  Her 
first  baby  she  killed  by  rolling  over  upon  it  in  a 
drunken  stupor.  Her  other  child  grew  up  to  be 
a  fair  little  girl  with  blue  eyes  and  flowing,  golden 
hair.  She  hated  the  beer  can,  and  would  plead 
with  her  mother  and  remonstrate  when  she  saw  it 
brought  into  the  house.  One  day  Mrs.  Hendrick- 
son had  been  drinking  heavily.  The  little  girl 
came  in  from  school,  and  she  sent  her  down  for 
more  beer.  The  child  refused  to  go,  and  in 
drunken  fury,  her  mother  seized  the  little  one  by 


A    MODERN    MIRACLE  169 

her  long  hair  and  dragged  her  head-first  down- 
stairs, unmindful  of  the  child's  screams  of  pain. 
The  girl's  spine  was  so  injured,  that  when  she  died 
a  few  months  later  every  one  thought  it  a  merciful 
deliverance.  Such  a  life  Mrs.  Hendrickson  had 
led, —  a  life  of  indescribable  bestiality  and  wretch- 
edness. The  change  now  was  so  incredible,  that 
as  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  looked  into  her  face, 
and  saw  the  dull,  heavy  features  lit  up  with  a  joy 
and  peace  that  seemed  to  come  from  a  vision  of 
unseen  things,  she  could  hardly  believe  that  this 
was  in  truth  the  same  body  that  had  once  stag- 
gered sodden  with  alcohol  into  the  church. 

One  afternoon,  some  months  later,  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  was  busied  in  the  church  yard.  Her 
occupation  was  not  a  conventional  one,  but  this  was 
not  a  conventional  church  yard.  She  was  engaged 
in  swinging  from  the  "  scups  "  some  of  the  solemn 
German  house-wives  and  dishevelled  and  jovial 
Irish  mothers  who  had  attended  the  meeting  which 
she  hela  every  Tuesday  afternoon.  The  church 
yard  had  been  fitted  up  as  a  gymnasium  for  the 
children  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  crowds  of  rag- 
ged and  tattered  little  urchins  clamoured  daily  at 
the  gates  for  admission  to  the  "  Scupping  School," 
as  they  called  it.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had 
no  idea  of  seeing  the  mothers  neglected  in  these 
plans  for  the  children.  She  had  discovered  that 
their  enthusiasm  for  "  scupping  "  was  as  great  as 
that  of  their  offspring,  and  she  had  insisted  that 


170  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

when  the  swings  were  put  up  they  should  be  made 
strong  enough  to  sustain  the  weight  of  the  stoutest 
matron  of  Cherry  Hill.  The  stoutest  matron  was 
undoubtedly  Mrs.  Hendrickson,  and  the  minister 
spent  some  anxious  hours  calculating  her  weight 
and  designing  a  framework  of  sufficient  strength 
to  support  the  strain.  His  plan  was  to  put  a  beam 
entirely  across  the  narrow  yard,  setting  one  end 
in  the  wall  of  the  church  and  the  other  in  the  wall 
of  the  opposite  house,  and  to  hang  all  the  swings 
and  trapezes  from  this.  He  sent  the  sexton  down 
to  the  lumber  yards  and  secured  a  beam  a  foot 
through  and  twenty-five  feet  long,  and  by  the 
strenuous  efforts  of  some  ardent  members  of  the 
Men's  Club,  it  was  at  last  put  into  position. 

The  sexton  looked  up  at  it  as  it  spanned  the 
wide  yard  far  aloft,  and  shook  his  head  dubiously. 
"  It's  all  right  fer  the  kids,"  he  said,  "  but  it'll 
never  hold  that  there  Mrs.  Hendrickson;  she'll 
make  it  crack  fer  sure." 

The  next  day  the  Building  Inspecto-r  appeared. 
"  What  are  you  doing  here?  "  he  asked. 

The  sexton  explained,  "  We're  fixin'  up  one  o' 
these  here  gymnasies,"  he  said.  "  I'm  tellin'  'em 
it's  all  right  fer  the  kids,  but  there's  some  of  these 
ladies  can't  let  the  scups  alone.  We've  got  one 
here  who  weighs  about  400  pounds,  a  reg'lar 
Barnum  prize  lady,  and  I'm  thinkin'  it'll  be  a  bad 
day  fer  the  old  church  when  she  sets  down  on  that 
there  beam." 


A   MODERN    MIRACLE  171 

A  grin  spread  slowly  over  the  face  of  the  in- 
spector. 

"  How  much  weight  do  you  reckon  that  beam 
will  bear  at  the  point  over  the  middle  of  the 
yard?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  we  was  hopin'  it  would  stand  500  pounds, 
but  come  to  look  at  it,  I'm  afraid  the  old  lady  will 
make  it  crack  if  she  sets  down  good  and  hard." 

The  inspector  pulled  out  his  note  book  and 
pencil  and  figured  a  moment.  "  At  its  middle 
point  that  beam  will  bear  a  stress  of  18,000 
pounds,  so  you've  got  a  little  margin  even  if  the 
lady  weighs  500.  Good  morning,"  he  said  and 
departed,  leaving  the  sexton  scratching  his  head. 

So  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  no  fear  in  giv- 
ing free  rein  to  her  mothers  with  the  Scups  and 
she  was  joining  heartily  in  their  fun  when  some 
one  called  her  aside.  In  the  waiting-room  in  the 
church  basement  she  found  Mrs.  Hendrickson, 
bareheaded  and  panting.  When  she  saw  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer  she  burst  into  tears,  gasping  inco- 
herently between  her  sobs:  "It's  no  use!  I 
can't  stand  it  no  longer!  I  can't!  I  can't!  1 
can't!" 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer,  putting  a  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and 
soothing  her  like  a  frightened  child. 

"  It's  my  man.  He  come  in  just  now  with  a 
can  o'  beer.  I  had  the  house  all  tidied  up  and  a 
nice  supper  ready,  but  he  never  so  much  as  looked 


172  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

at  it.  He  fills  up  two  glasses  from  the  can  and 
says  he :  c  Here,  take  yer  glass  and  drink  it  down, 
an'  no  back  talk  or  there'll  be  trouble.  You've 
done  the  pious  act  long  enough.  I'm  sick  o'  seein' 
you  settin'  there  like  a  Chinese  image,  pointin'  the 
finger  at  me  f er  me  sins.  Come  drink  it  down !  ' 
*  Why,  John,'  says  I,  '  don't  I  keep  the  house  up 
nice?  You  wouldn't  like  to  go  back  an'  live  like 
pigs  the  way  we  used  to?  '  '  I  don't  care,'  says 
he,  '  pigs  or  no  pigs,  I'm  boss  in  this  house,  an' 
when  I  say  drink,  you've  gotter  drink.'  An'  I 
says,  '  John,  you  ain't  got  no  call  to  be  bossin'  me. 
You  know  I'll  eat  and  drink  anythin'  to  please  yer, 
even  if  'twas  mud,  only  I  can't  break  me  promise. 
'Tain't  right  to  ax  me.'  '  Right!  '  he  yells.  '  I'll 
teach  you  what's  right,  so  you  won't  forgit  it 
neither ! '  an'  he  picks  up  a  stick  o'  wood  an'  knocks 
me  down  an'  beats  me  with  it  from  head  to  foot. 
I'm  black  and  blue  all  over.  An'  it  don't  seem  as 
if  I  could  stand  it  no  longer!  " 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  felt  herself  almost 
blinded  by  the  strong  wave  of  wrath  and  pain  that 
swept  over  her.  She  felt  with  this  poor  woman 
in  every  fibre  of  her  soul.  The  struggle  to  do 
right  and  break  from  the  habits  of  a  life  time  was 
certainly  hard  enough  without  being  beaten  and 
cursed  for  it.  It  did  not  seem  as  if  any  one  could 
hold  out  against  such  odds,  and  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  felt  like  crying  out:  "There  is  no  use  in 
trying  to  get  on  with  a  man  so  brutally  cruel. 


A   MODERN    MIRACLE  173 

You  must  leave  him,  before  he  drags  you  down 
with  him." 

And  then  the  blinding  cloud  passed,  and  she  saw 
clearly  again. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Hendrickson,"  she  said,  "  it  is 
hard!  I  know  just  how  hard  it  is!  I  feel  it  all 
just  as  if  the  blows  had  fallen  on  my  own  back. 
The  hardest  thing  in  the  world  to  bear  is  when 
those  whom  you  love  and  are  trying  to  help  turn 
on  you  and  mock  you  and  strike  you  and  torture 
you.  That  is  what  our  Lord  bore.  Every  great 
man  and  true  woman  has  helped  to  bear  that  cross, 
for  that  is  the  only  way  in  which  the  world  can  be 
saved.  Now  you  too  are  bearing  it.  You  are 
not  alone.  They  all  know  how  it  hurts.  He, 
your  Lord  and  Master,  has  felt  every  bit  of  what 
you  feel  to-night.  It  is  hard,  but  it  is  worth  while. 
He  conquered,  and  you  will  conquer,  and  He  is 
with  you  in  it  all." 

The  tears  passed  and  the  broad  simple  face  lit 
up  with  a  sudden  light:  "Don't  I  know  it! 
Why,  this  afternoon,  I  felt  He  was  right  there 
with  me  in  the  room !  It  was  just  like  as  if  you 
was  sittin'  there  with  me  on  the  sofa.  An'  me 
troubles  didn't  bother  me  no  more,  an'  I  was  that 
quiet  an'  peaceful, —  you  don't  know!  " 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  saw  her  return  to  her 
dark  basement  with  some  misgiving.  She  had 
spoken  bravely,  but  there  were  limits  even  to  her 
faith,  and  some  things  seemed  too  hard  to  be  ac- 


174  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

complished  on  earth.  And  yet  in  spite  of  her 
doubts,  her  prediction  came  true. 

It  was  about  a  year  later  that  John  Hendrick- 
son,  after  keeping  sober  for  over  six  months,  stood 
up  before  a  large  crowd  that  had  gathered  to  wel- 
come him,  and  joined  the  church.  He  was  a  de- 
termined man,  and  when  he  once  made  up  his 
mind,  no  one  could  shake  him.  The  men  who 
offered  him  drink  at  his  work  found  this  out  to 
their  cost.  When  he  made  a  promise,  he  kept  it. 
He  had  his  faults,  like  most  mortals,  and  some- 
times Mrs.  Hendrickson  would  shake  her  head 
ponderously,  and  say  with  a  profound  sigh: 
"  He's  a  terrible  cranky  man,  John  Hendrickson 
is."  But  when  she  said  it  she  was  sitting  on  a 
finely  upholstered  sofa  in  a  nicely  furnished  three 
room  apartment,  full  of  pretty  things,  and  all  John 
Hendrickson's  good  weekly  wage  was  safe  in  a 
vase  on  the  mantel. 

Several  years  later  there  was  a  funeral  at  the 
church.  The  Cooper's  Union  was  present  in  a 
body,  and  many  others  attended,  so  that  the 
church  was  well  filled.  After  the  service  a  few 
words  were  spoken  of  a  man  who  had  kept  his 
word  and  conquered  himself,  and  had  built  for 
himself  a  new  and  happy  life  out  of  the  ruins  of 
the  past.  And  every  one  of  that  crowd  of  his 
friends  and  fellow  workmen  bore  witness  to  the 
fact  that  from  the  day  he  made  it,  John  Hendrick- 
son kept  his  promise. 


XVIII 

A   RING   OF   GOLD 

She  was  a  strange  figure  of  a  woman  as  she  stood 
just  outside  the  door  listening  to  the  singing. 
Her  clothes  were  ragged  and  dirty,  and  her  grey- 
hair  was  dishevelled.  This  in  itself  was  not 
strange,  for  she  stood  in  the  hall  of  one  of  the 
wretched  tenements  in  Cherry  Street,  and  none 
of  the  women  who  had  gathered  there  at  the  door 
were  remarkable  for  the  immaculateness  of  their 
garments  or  the  perfection  of  their  coiffure.  Her 
face  was  the  strange  thing  about  her.  It  was  a 
face  that  might  have  been  taken  by  some  process 
of  legerdemain  from  behind  the  desk  in  some  old- 
fashioned  New  England  Country  School  house, 
and  attached  by  magic  to  a  body  disguised  in  rags 
and  dirt  here  in  an  environment  absurdly  in- 
congruous. She  wore  glasses,  and  her  forehead 
was  puckered  with  those  lines  of  thought  with 
which  the  illustrator  supplies  the  old  time  "  school 
marm."  Her  mouth  had  a  prim  little  twist  to  it, 
and  every  wrinkle  in  the  open,  homely  face  sug- 
gested an  immediate  background  of  apple  pie, 
doughnuts  and  cider. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  been  holding  a 
little  service  for  a  woman  who  lay  desperately  ill  in 

175 


176  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

the  room  within,  and  the  unwonted  sound  of  the 
singing  had  drawn  the  neighbours  to  the  open  door. 
They  had  listened  curiously  as  she  spoke  to  the 
suffering  woman  beside  her,  and  with  more  pleas- 
ure to  the  voices  of  the  girls  from  the  choir  as 
they  sang  some  of  the  old  hymns. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  started  somewhat 
hurriedly  to  leave  the  room.  It  was  a  busy  day, 
and  she  had  many  meetings  before  her.  But  as 
she  came  to  the  door  her  eye  fell  upon  the  listen- 
ing woman.  The  strange  face,  in  the  midst  of 
ruddy,  snub-nosed  Celtic  countenances  and 
swarthy,  wizened  Italian  faces  at  once  drew  her 
attention.  She  saw  that  the  woman  took  a  step 
forward  as  if  to  speak,  and  then  sank  back  with 
a  self-conscious  flush.  She  noticed,  too,  that 
there  were  tears  in  her  eyes  and  that  her  lips  were 
trembling.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  suddenly 
puzzled,  stopped  abruptly.  Only  one  who  had 
worked  for  years  in  Cherry  Street  could  realise 
how  strange  a  sight  was  such  a  face.  If  one  could 
judge  from  the  woman's  garments,  she  might  have 
been  taken  for  one  of  those  wretched  creatures 
who  spend  their  days  in  drunken  brawls.  Her 
soiled  torn  dress  and  the  bruise  on  her  cheek  spoke 
plainly  of  her  association  with  the  commonplace 
scenes  of  the  neighbourhood,  but  the  face  told 
another  story.  It  was  with  the  sense  that  she  was 
approaching  some  unaccountable  mystery  that  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  reached  out,  took  her  hand 


A   RING   OF   GOLD  177 

gently,  and  said:  "What  is  it?  Can  I  do  any- 
thing for  you?  " 

"  I  know  you're  the  Lady  from  the  church," 
said  the  woman,  and  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
was  glad  to  note  that  the  voice  suited  the  face  and 
not  the  garments.  She  could  close  her  eyes  and 
fancy  herself  standing  in  some  New  England 
farmhouse. 

11  I've  seen  you  lots  of  times,"  she  went  on,  and 
hesitated.  "  Ye  wouldn't  think  o'  comin'  up  to 
my  house  some  day,  and  singin'  some  of  them 
hymns,  would  ye?  My  man  likes  to  hear  singin' 
and  I  might  get  him  to  stop  in.  Ye  see,  to  tell 
the  truth,  we  ain't  neither  of  us  been  doin'  just 
right,  and  I  guess  it's  about  time  we  turned  over  a 
new  leaf.  Why,  say,  when  I  heard  that  old 
hymn,  it  made  me  feel  turrible.  You  wouldn't 
think  it,  but  I  used  to  be  a  decent  woman.  I  had 
a  good  home  up  in  New  England,  and  it  makes 
me  ashamed  now  to  look  at  a  good  woman  like 
you.  I  guess  if  you  knew  the  half  of  what  I've 
been  doin',  ye'd  take  your  hand  away  mighty 
quick." 

She  left  the  room  after  receiving  the  promise 
of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  to  visit  her,  and  one 
of  the  other  women  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  That 
Mrs.  Bronson's  a  terror!  She  and  her  husband 
fight  somethin'  fierce.  They  nearly  tore  the  house 
down  the  other  day.  It's  the  drink.  They  live 
right    over    me,    and    yesterday, —  well,    say,    I 


178  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

thought  the  roof  would  fall  in  on  my  head  fer 
fair!  Of  all  the  poundin'  and  screamin'  and 
swearin' !  They  had  the  can  goin'  all  day,  and 
the  two  of  'em  was  too  drunk  to  stand  on  their 
pins." 

A  week  later  the  meeting  was  held  in  Mrs. 
Bronson's  house  as  she  requested.  It  was  one  of 
the  old  three-story  tenements,  with  dark  halls  and 
broken  dilapidated  stairs.  The  rooms  were  small, 
and  the  ceilings  were  so  low  as  to  endanger  the 
head  of  a  tall  man.  The  plaster  was  cracked,  and 
the  wooden  floors  were  worn  and  uneven.  An 
excited  gabbling  in  high  pitched  voices,  and  a 
strong  odour  of  garlic  and  stale  macaroni  were 
advance  agents  to  notify  the  visitor  that  the  tene- 
ment was  crowded  with  Italians. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  climbed  the  rickety 
stairs  to  the  garret  room  in  front.  The  door  was 
thrown  open  at  her  knock,  and  there  stood  Mrs. 
Bronson,  her  ragged  dress  covered  with  a  clean 
white  apron,  her  grey  hair  parted  and  smoothly 
brushed.  Her  spectacles  were  pushed  up  on  her 
forehead.  There  was  a  smile  of  welcome  on  her 
prim  mouth,  and  each  separate  wrinkle  had  a  be- 
nevolent greeting  of  its  own. 

"  Well,  now,"  she  said,  "  I'm  real  glad  to  see 
you.  Come  right  in !  "  and  then  she  added  in  a 
whisper,  "  He's  here !     I  got  him  to  stay !  " 

Behind  her  loomed  a  tall,  ungainly  longshore- 
man in  a  blue-check  jumper,  his  ragged  trousers 


A   RING    OF   GOLD  179 

held  together  by  a  rough  leather  belt  in  which  was 
stuck  one  of  the  iron  hooks  used  in  unloading 
freight.  He  had  a  rugged,  weather-beaten  face, 
a  bristling  moustache,  pale  blue  eyes  and  a  massive 
jaw.  He  had  plastered  down  his  sandy  hair 
streaked  with  grey,  evidently  by  a  supreme 
effort. 

"  He  was  scairt  to  stay,  because  all  his  clothes 
are  pawned,"  she  went  on  in  a  whisper,  "  but  I 
told  him  if  it  was  clothes  ye  were  lookin'  for,  ye'd 
be  goin'  up  to  Altman's." 

Bronson  came  forward,  and  held  out  his  great 
hand  somewhat  awkwardly,  and  with  a  self-con- 
scious smile. 

"  Come  right  in!  "  said  Mrs.  Bronson,  greeting 
the  little  company  of  singers  that  followed  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  You  won't  mind  the 
house,  will  you?  "  she  went  on.  "  It  looks  terrible 
bare,  but  you  see  we  pawned  everything  last  week." 
A  dull  red  flush  crept  over  her  cheek,  and  she 
continued  hastily,  "  We've  borrowed  some  chairs 
from  the  neighbours,  and  I  guess  it'll  do." 

The  room  was  bare  indeed.  There  was  noth- 
ing but  a  rough  wooden  table,  a  broken  stove,  and 
the  borrowed  chairs,  but  the  place  was  clean  for 
the  first  time  in  months,  and  the  rough  boards 
shone  with  hard  scrubbing. 

It  was  a  very  simple  little  meeting  that  was  held 
that  day  in  the  bare  attic  of  the  tenement  crowded 
with  curious  Italians.     They  listened  to  a  few  of 


178  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

thought  the  roof  would  fall  in  on  my  head  fer 
fair!  Of  all  the  poundin'  and  screamin'  and 
swearin'!  They  had  the  can  goin'  all  day,  and 
the  two  of  'em  was  too  drunk  to  stand  on  their 
pins." 

A  week  later  the  meeting  was  held  in  Mrs. 
Bronson's  house  as  she  requested.  It  was  one  of 
the  old  three-story  tenements,  with  dark  halls  and 
broken  dilapidated  stairs.  The  rooms  were  small, 
and  the  ceilings  were  so  low  as  to  endanger  the 
head  of  a  tall  man.  The  plaster  was  cracked,  and 
the  wooden  floors  were  worn  and  uneven.  An 
excited  gabbling  in  high  pitched  voices,  and  a 
strong  odour  of  garlic  and  stale  macaroni  were 
advance  agents  to  notify  the  visitor  that  the  tene- 
ment was  crowded  with  Italians. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  climbed  the  rickety 
stairs  to  the  garret  room  in  front.  The  door  was 
thrown  open  at  her  knock,  and  there  stood  Mrs. 
Bronson,  her  ragged  dress  covered  with  a  clean 
white  apron,  her  grey  hair  parted  and  smoothly 
brushed.  Her  spectacles  were  pushed  up  on  her 
forehead.  There  was  a  smile  of  welcome  on  her 
prim  mouth,  and  each  separate  wrinkle  had  a  be- 
nevolent greeting  of  its  own. 

11  Well,  now,"  she  said,  "  I'm  real  glad  to  see 
you.  Come  right  in!  "  and  then  she  added  in  a 
whisper,  "  He's  here!     I  got  him  to  stay!  " 

Behind  her  loomed  a  tall,  ungainly  longshore- 
man in  a  blue-check  jumper,  his  ragged  trousers 


A   RING    OF   GOLD  179 

held  together  by  a  rough  leather  belt  in  which  was 
stuck  one  of  the  iron  hooks  used  in  unloading 
freight.  He  had  a  rugged,  weather-beaten  face, 
a  bristling  moustache,  pale  blue  eyes  and  a  massive 
jaw.  He  had  plastered  down  his  sandy  hair 
streaked  with  grey,  evidently  by  a  supreme 
effort. 

"  He  was  scairt  to  stay,  because  all  his  clothes 
are  pawned,"  she  went  on  in  a  whisper,  "  but  I 
told  him  if  it  was  clothes  ye  were  lookin'  for,  ye'd 
be  goin'  up  to  Altman's." 

Bronson  came  forward,  and  held  out  his  great 
hand  somewhat  awkwardly,  and  with  a  self-con- 
scious smile. 

11  Come  right  in!  "  said  Mrs.  Bronson,  greeting 
the  little  company  of  singers  that  followed  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  You  won't  mind  the 
house,  will  you?  "  she  went  on.  "  It  looks  terrible 
bare,  but  you  see  we  pawned  everything  last  week." 
A  dull  red  flush  crept  over  her  cheek,  and  she 
continued  hastily,  "  We've  borrowed  some  chairs 
from  the  neighbours,  and  I  guess  it'll  do." 

The  room  was  bare  indeed.  There  was  noth- 
ing but  a  rough  wooden  table,  a  broken  stove,  and 
the  borrowed  chairs,  but  the  place  was  clean  for 
the  first  time  in  months,  and  the  rough  boards 
shone  with  hard  scrubbing. 

It  was  a  very  simple  little  meeting  that  was  held 
that  day  in  the  bare  attic  of  the  tenement  crowded 
with  curious  Italians.     They  listened  to  a  few  of 


180  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

those  words  from  the  ancient  prophets  that  still 
vibrate  with  the  intense  consciousness  of  the  vast 
Power  that  waits  to  lift  up  the  fallen  and  give 
strength  to  the  weak,  a  few  of  the  sweet  old 
hymns,  and  a  request  for  help  made  very  simply 
to  One  who  was  there  in  the  room.  That  was 
all,  save  that  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  spoke  very 
briefly  about  her  deepest  beliefs  in  a  conversa- 
tional way,  as  if  she  were  talking  casually  with 
them  all. 

When  the  singers  had  gone,  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  remained  behind.  Mrs.  Bronson  had  been 
deeply  stirred  by  the  meeting,  and  wished  to  tell 
her  all  the  story  of  the  past.  It  was  a  sad  tale 
which  she  heard  as  she  sat  in  the  bare  borrowed 
chair,  her  erect  slender  form  leaning  forward  and 
her  hands  clasped  about  one  knee,  listening  in 
sympathy  to  the  woman  whose  homely  spectacled 
face  seemed  so  incongruous  with  the  events  she  de- 
scribed. The  woman  had  left  her  New  England 
home  with  the  promise  of  better  work  in  New 
York,  and  had  found  herself  deceived  and  at  last 
turned  adrift  without  a  friend  in  the  great  city. 
She  told  of  the  desperate  struggle  for  food,  how 
work  was  offered  by  men  who  helped  her,  only  to 
betray  and  then  cast,  her  off.  She  told  of  the 
shame  that  kept  her  from  every  appeal  to  friends 
at  home.  She  told  how  she  went  down  that  ter- 
rible road  of  wretchedness  and  sin  along  which 
hunger  forces  many  a  girl  to  travel  to-day.     She 


A   RING   OF   GOLD  181 

drank  to  dull  her  conscience  and  to  forget.  Every 
day  brought  her  lower,  till  she  had  no  home  but 
the  streets,  no  refuge  but  the  vilest  of  all  spots 
on  earth,  the  backroom  of  a  Bowery  saloon.  One 
evening  she  swung  open  the  screened  side  door, 
and  crept  in  to  sit  down  at  one  of  the  rough  beer- 
splashed  tables.  Other  women  sat  about  her, 
women  with  dirty,  plumed  hats  set  rakishly  on  one 
side,  with  tattered,  mud-clogged  skirts,  with  fea- 
tures swollen  and  bloated  and  eyes  bleared  and  wa- 
tery. Through  the  door  in  front  they  watched  the 
crowd  before  the  bar,  a  collection  of  beings  from 
whom  every  human  trace  seemed  almost  effaced. 
She  could  see  the  beggars  of  Chatham  Square, 
armless  and  legless,  with  hideous  faked  scars  on 
arm  and  face.  She  could  see  tramps  and  hoboes, 
unshaved,  unwashed,  clothed  in  dirty  rags,  with 
vacuous  eyes  and  hanging  jaws  and  trembling 
hands.  They  would  creep  up  to  each  new  comer 
with  a  piteous,  wheedling  appeal,  "  fer  jest  one 
more  ball.'*  She  could  see,  too,  a  few  well  known 
yeggs  and  hold-up  men  with  brutal  apish  features, 
thick  necks  and  swollen  deformed  ears,  their  pock- 
ets bulging  with  black  jacks  and  sandbags,  who 
were  waiting  here  until  the  hour  when  they  would 
waylay  some  drunken  sailor.  She  could  hear  their 
curses  and  vile  stories  through  the  open  door. 
She  was  starving,  as  were  the  other  dirty,  plumed 
hags  beside  her,  who  with  forced  gaiety  were 
waving  their  soiled,   clawlike  hands   at  the  men 


182  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

outside.  Her  life  depended  on  the  chance  that 
some  of  those  brutes  would  notice  her.  Her 
chances  were  slim,  however,  for  she  preserved  a 
certain  trim  respectability,  and  shrank  back  from 
the  bold  hoydens  about  her.  A  tall  fine  looking 
longshoreman  elbowed  his  way  through  the  hoboes 
and  loafers  to  the  bar,  and  as  he  secured  "  the 
largest  glass  of  beer  for  a  nickel  in  New  York  " 
and  carried  it  to  the  back  room  for  safe  consump- 
tion, his  eye  caught  sight  of  her.  He  looked  at 
her  fixedly,  and  studied  her  from  the  top  of  her 
head  to  the  soles  of  her  feet,  so  closely  that  she 
flushed  a  little.  Then  he  strode  over  and  sat 
down  beside  her.  "  What  are  you  doing  in  this 
dive?"  he  said:  "  This  ain't  no  place  for  the 
likes  of  you.  You  come  home  with  me.  That'll 
be  better  for  you  than  staying  here."  It  was  a 
new  type  of  knight  errantry,  unfamiliar  to  Gala- 
had and  his  friends,  but  none  the  less  real  and 
true.  From  that  hour  he  had  been  faithful  to 
her,  and  she  to  him.  They  started  housekeeping 
and  would  have  fared  well  enough  but  for  "  the 
drink."  When  he  brought  his  money  home  at  the 
week's  end,  she  sallied  forth  with  the  "  can,"  and 
they  kept  it  going  until  both  were  beyond  the  realm 
of  sanity.  Both  were  high  tempered,  and  under 
the  influence  of  alcohol  they  behaved  like  mad 
creatures.  They  scratched  and  tore  and  struck, 
and  many  a  time  a  blow  from  his  fist  left  her  un- 
conscious.    Then  they  had  to  begin  the  next  week, 


A   RING   OF   GOLD  183 

sore  and  wounded,  with  no  food  and  no  money 
and  all  their  possessions  pawned. 

It  seemed  like  a  strange^  incredible  dream  to 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  as  she  listened.  It  was 
a  tax  upon  her  imagination  to  believe  that  this 
trim  old  New  England  "  school  marm,"  who  sat 
beside  her  in  spectacles  and  a  white  apron,  should 
have  been  through  scenes  such  as  these.  It  seemed 
like  a  drama  in  which  the  actors  were  a  misfit. 
But  it  was  no  play  to  them.  The  tears  were  run- 
ning down  the  woman's  cheeks  as  she  told  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  how  tired  they  were  of  this 
wretched  life. 

The  man  had  listened  in  awkward  silence,  seated 
in  one  of  the  wooden  chairs  which  seemed  ab- 
surdly small  to  support  his  huge  frame.  He 
sought  to  hide  his  ragged  trousers  by  cramping 
his  unwieldy  length  of  leg  beneath  him  in  ungainly 
fashion.  His  wife  turned  to  him  for  confirma- 
tion. 

"  Yes,  me  and  her  has  had  enough  of  this  life," 
he  said.  "  We  want  to  start  in  and  do  right.  I'm 
goin'  to  marry  her  all  reg'lar,  and  we're  goin'  to 
cut  out  the  drink." 

There  was  a  settled  determination  about  this 
rugged  man  with  his  massive  jaw  that  carried 
conviction.  The  face  of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
expressed  her  delight  better  than  words.  She  as- 
sured them  of  her  sympathy,  and  added:  "Why 
don't  you  get  married  to-morrow?     I'll  get  the 


1 84  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

minister  to  come  down,  and  you  can  start  in  at 
once." 

"No!"  said  the  man  emphatically,  "  my 
money's  all  gone.  I  haven't  any  decent  clothes, 
and  the  furniture's  all  pawned.  When  we  start, 
we  want  to  start  decent,  anyhow." 

"  But  I  can  help  you  out,"  said  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer,  "  and  the  sooner  you  set  wrong  right, 
the  better." 

"  That  may  be  some  folks's  way,"  said  the  man 
with  bluff  decision,  "  but  when  I  do  a  thing,  I 
mean  to  do  it  right,  and  I  mean  to  do  it 
myself.  No  offence  to  you,  mum.  When 
I  marry  her,  I'm  agoin'  to  have  a  decent 
home  to  bring  her  to,  and  decent  clothes  to  be 
married  in.  If  we've  waited  all  these  years,  we 
can  wait  a  few  days  more  till  I  get  my  money  and 
start  right  when  we  do  start.  I  haven't  got  so 
much  money  now  as  would  buy  a  plate  o'  beans, 
let  alone  a  weddin'  ring." 

"  Oh,  if  it's  the  ring  you  want,  I  can  get  you 
a  little  plated  one  quite  cheap,"  said  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer,  fearing  to  risk  postponement  of  the 
good  resolution. 

"  No,"  he  answered  with  a  firm  snap  of  his 
massive  jaw.  "  If  my  wife  is  good  enough  for 
me  to  marry,  she's  good  enough  to  have  a  ring  of 
real  gold.  And  I  won't  marry  her  till  I  can  buy 
her  as  good  a  ring  as  any  woman  has  got  in  this 
city." 


A   RING   OF   GOLD  185 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  saw  it  was  useless  to 
push  the  matter,  and  she  respected  the  man  the 
more  for  his  decision.  He  realised  the  greatness 
of  the  adventure  upon  which  he  was  setting  forth. 
Prayer  was  to  him  an  untried  field,  but  he  was 
not  ashamed  to  kneel  with  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  before  she  left,  and  ask  for  help  that  his 
efforts  might  not  be  in  vain.  He  felt  that  without 
aid  it  was  beyond  his  power  and  that  of  the 
woman  at  his  side  to  set  right  a  life  so  wrongly 
begun,  and  to  overcome  the  habits  of  years.  He 
was  not  a  religious  man,  and  had  not  entered  a 
church  in  years,  but  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had 
given  him  a  conviction  that  there  was  a  Power  that 
would  aid  him  in  such  an  endeavour  honestly  made. 
"  Help  me  and  her  to  start  right,  this  time,"  he 
said.  "  Help  us  to  cut  out  the  drink.  We  want 
to  be  on  the  square.  We  want  to  do  right.  Help 
us,  for  Christ's  sake." 

It  was  not  many  weeks  before  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  brought  the  minister  down  to  Bron- 
son's  rooms  in  the  Cherry  Street  tenement.  She 
would  never  have  known  them  if  she  had  not  had 
a  hand  herself  in  their  transformation.  Neat  new 
furniture,  a  bright  rug,  a  gay  sofa  and  a  hundred 
little  touches  here  and  there  had  transformed  the 
bare  garret  into  as  attractive  a  little  nest  as  could 
be  found  in  the  ward. 

They  stood  side  by  side,  these  two  who  had 
come  up  out  of  the  depths  together.     The  tall 


186  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

longshoreman,  clothed  now  in  garments  that  he 
thought  worthy  of  the  occasion,  took  the  worn 
hand  of  the  grey-haired  woman  whom  he  wished 
to  honour  to  the  utmost  of  his  ability.  She  stood 
there  clad  in  the  neat  grey  dress  upon  which  she 
had  toiled  all  the  week,  and  there  was  a  flush  of 
pride  on  her  wrinkled  cheek  as  she  looked  up  at 
the  man  whose  simple,  reverent  love  was  raising 
her  up  out  of  degradation  and  shame,  and  bestow- 
ing upon  her  the  greatest  gift  that  woman  can  re- 
ceive. Stumblingly  but  firmly  he  repeated  the  old 
familiar  words,  which  each  man  takes  upon  his 
lips  as  he  receives  the  woman  who  is  to  preside 
over  his  home  and  to  whom  he  entrusts  his  life 
and  honour,  words  repeated  often  at  some  gor- 
geous pageant  by  youthful  lips  that  understand 
but  little  the  meaning  of  that  great  promise  that 
binds  two  souls  together,  but  never  spoken  with 
deeper  understanding  or  truer  meaning  than  here 
in  the  tenement  attic  by  the  stumbling  lips  of  the 
rough  longshoreman  to  the  worn  grey-haired  lit- 
tle woman  at  his  side. 

"  I,  James,  take  thee  Ellen,  to  be  my  wedded 
wife,  to  have  and  to  hold  from  this  day  forward, 
for  better,  for  worse,  for  richer,  for  poorer,  in 
sickness  and  in  health,  to  love  and  to  cherish  till 
death  us  do  part." 

He  fumbled  a  moment  in  his  pocket,  and  then 
slipped  a  ring  on  the  worn  finger,  and  bending 
with  a  sort  of  rough  reverence  toward  the  grey 


A   RING   OF   GOLD  187 

little  woman  at  his  side  he  repeated  with  a  special 
emphasis  the  words:  "With  this  ring  I  thee 
wed,"  and  the  solemn  adjuration  with  which  the 
sentence  closes.  When  the  prayer  was  ended,  he 
breathed  a  long  sigh. 

"  Well,  we're  started  on  the  square  now  at  last, 
and  we  mean  business,"  he  said  to  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer,  as  she  came  up  to  shake  his  hand. 
"  I  reckon  that  ring'll  hold  us  two  together  as  long 
as  there's  anythin'  left  of  us,  for  it's  real  gold." 


XIX 

A    PRACTICAL   JOKE 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  climbing  with  some 
difficulty  the  narrow  stair  that  led  to  the  attic  of  an 
ancient  dwelling-house  in  Hamilton  Street.  Once 
it  had  belonged  to  the  aristocracy,  and  the  dark 
stair  up  which  she  was  feeling  her  way  had  led 
to  the  servants'  quarters.  But  now  the  ancient 
glory  was  departed.  The  whole  house  was  falling 
to  pieces,  and  reeked  with  the  odour  of  rats  and 
cats  and  dirty  rags  and  stale  beer.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  old  walls  of  this  respectable  family  mansion 
must  shudder  with  horror  over  the  sights  and 
sounds  and  odours  which  were  its  daily  experience. 
Now  each  room  of  this  whole  top  floor  accommo- 
dated an  entire  household.  At  the  top  of  the 
stairs  there  was  a  dark  attic  hall.  The  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  groped  her  way  to  one  of  the  doors 
and  knocked.  A  husky  bass  voice  from  within 
called,  "  Come  in,"  and  she  opened  the  door  and 
looked  in  upon  a  wretched  little  furnished  room. 
The  floor  was  bare,  and  there  was  a  bed  whose 
dirty  covers  lay  as  they  had  been  thrown  in  the 
morning,  and  a  deal  table  with  a  few  dirty  dishes, 
and  a  large  can  of  beer,  half  of  which  had  been 
spilled  and  was  trickling  over  the  greasy  boards. 

188 


A   PRACTICAL   JOKE  189 

Out  of  one  of  the  rickety  chairs,  there  rose  a 
tall  cumbrous  form,  which,  except  for  the  soiled 
black  skirt  that  hung  about  it,  had  little  in  its  out- 
line to  suggest  a  woman.  The  red,  hairy  arm  that 
she  stretched  out  toward  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
was  bare,  for  the  sleeves  of  the  dirty  white  jacket 
that  covered  her  slouchy  masculine  shoulders  were 
rolled  up,  and  her  blouse  was  unbuttoned,  show- 
ing the  thick  rough  neck.  The  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  shrank  back  instinctively  from  the  coarse 
face  blotched  with  red  and  disfigured  with  a  beard 
of  curling  brown  hairs,  but  a  heavy  hand  grasped 
her  slender  fingers  and  drew  her  forward. 
"  Come  in!  Come  in!  "  It  was  the  same  rau- 
cous voice  she  had  heard  before,  even  less  at- 
tractive now  that  she  saw  the  large  mouth  from 
which  it  emanated  with  the  thick  lips  parted  in  an 
affectionate  grin  that  revealed  several  broken  and 
missing  teeth.  The  woman  clung  to  the  hand  of 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  fondling  it  as  she  pulled 
her  toward  a  seat. 

"  Sit  down  here,  beside  me!  "  she  said  with  a 
leer  in  her  pale  blue  eyes,  half  closed  beneath  their 
bushy  brows.  u  I'm  so  glad  to  have  a  lady  come 
in  that  I  can  talk  to  as  a  friend, "  she  went  on, 
while  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  watched  with  help- 
less fascination  the  movement  of  the  thick  mous- 
tached  lips,  as  they  opened  and  closed  and  smiled 
in  maudlin  good  will  beneath  the  swollen,  hooked 
nose. 


190  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

Then  with  a  sudden  movement  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  freed  herself  from  the  grasp  of  the 
large  hand,  and  said  hurriedly:  "  I  came  to  see 
if  you  would  let  me  send  Jennie  to  the  country 
next  week." 

The  woman  looked  over  to  the  dark  corner 
where  a  pathetic  ragged  little  figure  was  huddled, 
playing  with  some  dirty  bits  of  cloth. 

"  Jennie,  come  here !  "  she  called  in  her  rough 
bass  voice. 

The  child  rose  hastily  and  came  towards  her. 
"  Yes'm,"  she  said. 

She  had  a  thin  body  and  a  pale  little  face  with 
a  large  mouth  which  was  trembling  now  as  she 
looked  at  her  mother  with  frightened  eyes. 

"  Jennie,  you  don't  want  to  go  to  the  country, 
do  you?  "  she  asked  sternly.  "  You'd  rather  stay 
with  your  mother,  and  not  go  away  with  all  those 
strangers,  wouldn't  you?  " 

"  Yes'm,"  said  the  frightened  child. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  woman,  "  I  can't  get  her 
to  leave  me.  She  loves  her  mother  so,  she  don't 
want  to  be  out  of  my  sight.  And  then,  I  need 
her  too  about  the  house." 

"  I  wish  you  would  let  her  go,"  said  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer.  "  She  doesn't  look  strong,  and 
two  weeks  in  the  country  would  make  a  new  girl 
of  her." 

The  child  watched  her  with  pathetic  eagerness, 
but  the  mother  answered.     "  No,  I  don't  want  to 


A   PRACTICAL   JOKE  191 

send  my  child  off  with  all  those  rough  good-for- 
nothing  Irish  children.  I'm  poor,  and  I've  seen 
hard  times,  but  I  belong  to  one  of  the  best  fam- 
ilies in  Boston.  You  know  the  Blanks,  don't  you, 
who  have  that  big  house  on  Commonwealth  Ave- 
nue?" 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  admitted  that  she 
knew  them  well  by  name. 

"  Well,  Governor  Blank  is  my  first  cousin. 
You  wouldn't  think  it  to  look  at  this  room,  but  I 
was  brought  up  with  the  best  people  in  Boston. 
I've  had  a  lot  of  trouble,  and  my  husband  is  an 
ignorant  man.  He  has  no  education,  and  he  can't 
sympathise  with  me  or  understand  me  at  all. 
That's  why  I'm  so  glad  to  have  some  one  come 
in  that  I  can  talk  to  about  the  old  days." 

But  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  no  desire  to 
continue  the  conversation  and  rose  abruptly. 

"  I'm  sorry,  but  I  must  go,"  she  said.  "  I  have 
twenty  calls  to  make  this  afternoon." 

She  tore  herself  from  the  grasp  of  Mrs.  Stubbs, 
and  shuddered  as  she  groped  her  way  down  the 
stairs.  She  was  conscious  of  a  strong  desire  to 
wash  her  hands  and  disinfect  her  brain  cells.  At 
the  door  she  met  Mr.  Stubbs,  whose  work  was 
slack  just  then,  and  who  was  returning  unusually 
early.  His  ragged,  ill-fitting  garments  gave  him 
a  dejected  look,  as  he  stood  with  hanging  head 
to  let  her  pass.  And  yet  he  was  a  fine  figure  of 
a  man,  well-built  and  tall,  with  regular  features, 


192  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

a  smooth  clear  cheek,  and  a  forehead  that  was  high 
and  strong,  though  surmounted  by  tousled  black 
hair  and  a  broken  hat.  There  was  a  pathetic  look 
in  his  brown  eyes,  that  made  him  look  like  a  big 
mastiff  who  has  an  unsympathetic  master. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Stubbs,"  said  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer.  "  I  have  just  been  up  to  ask 
Mrs.  Stubbs  to  let  Jennie  go  to  the  country,  but 
she  does  not  think  she  can  spare  her.  I  wish  you 
would  let  her  go.     She  needs  the  country  air." 

Mr.  Stubbs  made  no  response,  but  shook  his 
head  dubiously. 

"  Won't  you  persuade  Mrs.  Stubbs  to  let  her 
go?  "  she  asked. 

"  I'd  like  her  to  go  first  rate,"  he  said,  "  but 
if  she  says  no,  there's  an  end  on't,"  and  he  went  on 
up  stairs  with  a  weary  drag  to  his  ill-shod  feet, 
leaving  behind  him  an  odour  of  stale  beer  and  an- 
cient rags.  He  was  a  teamster  and  made  good 
wages,  but  whatever  financial  securities  he  ac- 
quired were  at  once  liquidated  by  Mrs.  Stubbs, 
who  kept  him  saturated  with  "  the  drink."  Little 
Jennie  was  essential  in  the  scheme  of  things  as  a 
means  of  transport  between  the  corner  saloon  and 
the  attic  room,  and  her  small  legs  were  kept  in 
constant  motion  over  the  familiar  route.  She 
could  not  be  spared  to  go  to  the  country.  She 
was  allowed  no  outings  or  amusements. 

Once,  some  months  later,  the  Lady  of. Good 
Cheer  met  Jennie  playing  with  a  rough  crowd  of 


A   PRACTICAL  JOKE  193 

children  in  Cherry  Street,  but  even  then  the  inevi- 
table can  was  in  her  hand,  and  she  was  evidently 
stealing  a  few  moments  of  play  en  route.  The 
children  were  playing  in  front  of  a  house  where 
a  little  girl  had  just  died,  and  over  their  heads  as 
they  shouted  and  laughed  hung  the  pathetic  white 
rosette,  soiled  and  tattered,  that  told  of  one  more 
little  life  crushed  out  by  the  insidious,  destroying 
forces  of  the  great  city. 

It  may  have  been  in  part  the  effect  of  that  sym- 
bol, but  it  seemed  to  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  that 
little  Jennie  had  suffered  a  horrifying  change. 
The  small  face  that  had  been  so  thin  and  pathetic 
seemed  swollen  and  red  with  many  blotches.  Her 
large  mouth  had  grown  coarse  and  her  lips  thick. 
Her  manner  was  no  longer  shy,  but  bold  and 
rough.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  feared  that 
here  were  the  signs  of  a  death  far  more  terrible 
than  that  symbolised  by  the  white  bow  beneath 
which  the  child  was  playing,  and  determined  to 
make  another  effort  to  get  her  out  of  the  clutches 
of  Mrs.  Stubbs.  Mr.  Stubbs  had  joined  the  Men's 
Club.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  persuaded 
him  to  take  the  pledge,  and  for  some  time  he  kept 
sober.  His  chronic  environing  atmosphere  of 
stale  alcohol  seemed  to  have  been  dissipated. 
Mrs.  Stubbs  had  also  renounced  her  beer  with 
many  solemn  protestations  and  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  in  return  had  enabled  them  to  move  from 
furnished  rooms  into  an  apartment  of  their  own. 


194  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

But  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  little  confidence 
in  the  virtuous  protestations  of  Mrs.  Stubbs,  and 
she  was  convinced  that  she  was  using  all  her  influ- 
ence in  an  underhand  way  to  drag  down  her  hus- 
band and  child.  She  always  felt  an  instinctive 
dread  of  an  encounter  with  Mrs.  Stubbs,  and  it 
was  not  until  her  conscience  urged  it  that  she  real- 
ised that  a  call  could  no  longer  be  postponed.  Ac- 
cordingly one  day  she  entered  the  narrow  court, 
and  ascended  the  stairs  of  the  rear  house  in  which 
Mrs.  Stubbs'  new  apartment  was  located.  As  she 
entered  the  little  room,  she  was  at  once  aware  of 
an  atmosphere  unduly  alcoholic,  and  the  over- 
whelmingly affectionate  greeting  of  Mrs.  Stubbs 
strengthened  the  impression  that  Mrs.  Stubbs  was 
up  to  some  villainy.  The  woman  clung  to  her 
hand  with  a  maudlin  grin,  and  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  had  an  irresistible  desire  to  screen  herself 
from  the  leer  of  her  pale  blue  eyes,  beneath  their 
bushy  brows,  as  from  something  unclean  and  pol- 
luting. 

Mrs.  Stubbs  was  in  an  affectionate  and  confiden- 
tial mood.  She  spoke  of  her  proud  family  connec- 
tions, and  of  the  troubles  and  injustice  of  human 
life. 

"  I  oughtn't  to  be  living  like  this,"  she  said. 
"  I'm  an  educated  woman,  and  a  woman  of  good 
family.  I'd  never  have  ought  to  take  up  with  a 
man  like  Mr.  Stubbs."  She  paused  a  moment  and 
then  leaned  forward  with  a  wink  of  her  pale  blue 


A   PRACTICAL   JOKE  195 

eyes.  "  I'll  tell  you  something.  You  think  I'm 
married  to  Mr.  Stubbs,  but  I  ain't.  I  wouldn't 
marry  an  ignorant  good-for-nothing  man  like  that. 
I  can  leave  him  any  time  I  want  to." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  felt  a  wave  of  disgust 
run  through  her,  but  she  mastered  it. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  that,"  she  said.  "  If 
you  aren't  married  to  him,  you  ought  to  leave  him 
at  once." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  she  answered,  with  another  wink. 
"  Not  just  now.  He  brings  in  too  good  pay.  But 
some  day,  I  will.  I'm  not  a-going  to  spend  my 
whole  life  with  a  man  like  that." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  left  with  an  over- 
mastering sense  of  disgust  and  horror,  and  it  was 
not  diminished  when  she  met  Mr.  Stubbs  walking 
with  erratic  steps  and  with  a  vacant  expression  in 
his  brown  eyes. 

"  Come  in  to  the  church  house  a  minute,"  she 
said,  "  I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

Mr.  Stubbs  shambled  into  the  waiting  room  and 
dropped  loosely  into  a  seat. 

"  I'm  afraid  things  are  not  going  very  well  at 
your  house,"  she  began. 

Ordinarily  it  was  like  drawing  crocodile's  teeth 
to  extract  a  word  from  Mr.  Stubbs,  but  to-day  un- 
der alcoholic  pressure,  the  safety  valve  was  opened 
and  all  the  imprisoned  bitterness  of  months  came 
pouring  forth. 

"It's   something  fierce!"   he   said.     "  I   don't 


iq6  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY     . 

know  what  to  do  with  that  woman!  She  drives 
me  crazy." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  felt  much  sympathy 
with  the  man.  His  silent,  uncomplaining  loyalty 
to  the  woman  he  had  chosen,  and  his  hard  toil  on 
her  behalf,  indicated  something  of  nobility  in  the 
man.  She  felt  that  Mrs.  Stubbs  was  deceiving 
him  and  exploiting  his  hard  labour,  and  that  her 
degrading  influence  was  dragging  him  down 
to  lower  and  lower  depths.  There  was  no  hope 
for  him  while  this  woman  kept  him  in  her  clutches. 
If  he  were  free  from  her,  he  might  prosper  and 
the  fine  qualities  in  him  so  long  suppressed,  might 
enable  him  to  develop  into  a  really  useful  man. 

"  She  told  me  you  were  not  married  to  her. 
Why  don't  you  leave  her  and  start  in  for  your- 
self ?" 

Mr.  Stubbs  looked  at  her  with  a  slow  surprise 
in  his  sad  brown  eyes. 

"Leave  her?"  he  repeated.  For  a  moment 
his  face  lit  up.  Then  he  shook  his  head.  "  No," 
he  said,  "  there's  the  little  girl.  We've  got  to 
stick  together  for  the  little  girl's  sake.  She's  all 
I've  got,  and  I  couldn't  have  no  harm  come  to 
her." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  offered  to  provide  for 
the  child.  She  brought  every  possible  argument 
to  bear,  but  he  only  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I've  lived  with  her  these 
ten  or  twelve  years,  an'  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  run  off 


A   PRACTICAL   JOKE  197 

and  leave  her.  It  would  make  trouble  for  the  lit- 
tle girl." 

"  For  the  little  girl's  sake  then,  you  must  keep 
straight  and  stop  drinking.  If  you  don't,  there 
will  be  no  one  to  look  out  for  her." 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  but,  my  God!  what  can  I 
do?  You  don't  know  that  woman!  It  don't 
seem  as  if  I  could  keep  from  the  drink  when  she's 
around!  " 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  did  her  best  to  make 
him  feel  her  sympathy  and  respect.  Indeed,  in 
this  ignorant  workingman,  she  seemed  to  recognise 
a  higher  sense  of  honour,  and  a  more  heroic 
standard  than  that  of  the  world's  chivalry.  Be- 
cause a  woman  had  once  surrendered  herself  to 
him,  he  felt  himself  bound  to  give  her  his  whole 
life  and  all  that  he  could  earn,  even  though  she 
had  become  hideous  to  him  and  he  knew  that  she 
abused  his  devotion  and  despised  him  for  his  loy- 
alty. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  so  anxious  about 
little  Jennie  that  she  made  another  effort  to  see 
Mrs.  Stubbs.  She  found  that  lady  even  more  af- 
fectionate and  confiding  than  on  her  previous  visit. 
She  made  an  earnest  plea  that  the  child  should  be 
allowed  to  go  away  to  the  country,  and  Mrs. 
Stubbs  seemed  inclined  to  relent. 

"  I'll  tell  you  a  secret  about  that  child,  only 
you  must  promise  never  to  tell,"  she  said  with  a 
leer.     "  Mr.  Stubbs  thinks  the  world  o'  that  child, 


198  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

and  he  sticks  by  the  home  just  for  her  sake.  He 
thinks  she's  his  child  " —  and  she  leaned  forward 
till  the  coarse  lips  and  hairy  chin  were  close  to  her 
listener  and  winked  with  her  pale  blue  eyes  — "  but 
she  ain't!"  she  concluded  with  a  hoarse  laugh. 
"  That's  one  on  him !  I've  fooled  him  all  these 
years!     Ain't  that  a  great  joke?  " 


XX 

A   BATTLE    WITH    DEMONS 

"  Why  don't  you  go  in  next  door  and  help  them 
two  little  girls?"  said  Mrs.  O'Brien  to  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer  one  day  when  she  was  calling  in 
the  tallest  and  narrowest  and  dirtiest  of  the  tene- 
ments in  the  "  Long  Block."  "  Their  mother's 
dead,  an'  their  father's  a  howly  terror!  Sure, 
I'm  that  flustrated  wid  his  rowin'  and  jawin'  next 
door  that  I've  got  palpytashuns  in  me  chist  an'  cole 
shivers  in  me  backbone.  He  near  kilt  the  two 
of  'em  this  afternoon.  I  heard  an  awful  screech, 
and  run  in  thinkin'  the  kid  had  threw  a  fit  or  some- 
thin',  an'  up  jumps  that  man  wid  a  knife  as  long 
as  an  umbrell!  An'  says  he,  '  What  are  ye  doin', 
buttin'  in  here!  Git  out  o'  me  house,  an'  quick 
too,'  says  he,  '  or  ye'll  be  ridin'  over  to  Brooklyn 
in  a  hearse  wid  yer  skin  so  full  o'  holes  your  own 
grandmither  won't  know  yer.'  I  let  out  a  yell: 
1  Howly  Mither!  Save  us!  '  says  I,  and  run  for 
me  life.  I'd  no  more  leave  that  man  to  take  care 
o'  two  girls,  than  I'd  leave  a  wild  Indian  to  nurse 
me  baby  wid  a  scalpin'  knife.  It  ain't  respecta- 
ble!" 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  knocked  at  the  next 
door  and  it  was  opened  by  a  slim,  wiry  girl  of 

199 


aoo  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

seventeen.  Her  freckled  face  showed  evidence  of 
close  contact  with  the  world's  coarse  thumb  in  the 
hard  lines  about  her  mouth,  and  in  the  suspicion 
and  defiance  that  filled  her  eyes,  as  though  some 
bitter  experience  of  human  nature  were  written 
forever  in  them. 

"What  do  you  want?''  she  demanded,  ab- 
ruptly. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  explained  her  posi- 
tion, and  told  the  girl  she  knew  of  their  trouble 
and  would  be  glad  to  help  if  she  could. 

Her  defiant  manner  gave  way  at  once.  "  Come 
in,"  she  said.  "  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  to  do ! 
Me  father's  clean  out  of  his  head !  I  don't  care 
for  myself,  but  he  shan't  hurt  Nellie,"  and  a  tiger- 
ish glint  came  into  her  eyes  that  told  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  that  the  child  would  not  suffer  so  long 
as  her  sister  had  nails  and  teeth. 

The  rooms  were  clean  and  in  good  order,  and 
furnished  with  many  of  those  little  knick-knacks 
that  are  the  record  of  a  family  life,  and  often  link 
a  wretched  present  with  happy  associations  of  the 
past.  By  the  window  stood  a  little  girl  of  about 
eight  years  with  a  face  of  such  unusual  loveliness 
that  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  looked  at  her  in 
surprise.  Her  features  were  regular,  save  for  a 
slight  saucy  tilt  to  the  nose.  She  had  the  large 
liquid  blue  eyes,  and  those  red  full  lips  chiseled  in 
the  form  of  Cupid's  bow,  which  are  seldom  found, 
save  in  the  imagination  of  a  pre-Raphaelite.     A 


A   BATTLE   WITH    DEMONS        201 

mass  of  dark  hair,  with  a  glint  of  gold  in  it  when  it 
caught  the  light,  fell  over  her  shoulders  and  curled 
round  her  delicate  cheek.  Just  now  the  corners 
of  her  mouth  drooped  pathetically  and  there  were 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer. 

The  girl's  eyes  filled  with  angry  tears  as  she 
described  a  battle  fought  between  maddened  brute 
strength  and  clinging  childish  devotion  for  the  pos- 
session of  a  mother's  watch,  the  sole  memorial 
and  keepsake  left  to  these  motherless  girls  to  re- 
call a  vanished  love  and  care.  The  father  had 
seized  all  the  money  Jessie  had  saved  to  pay  the 
rent,  and  had  come  home  more  crazed  with  drink 
than  before  to  demand  this  one  article  which  the 
girls  prized  above  all  else.  Indignantly  Jessie 
had  refused  to  give  it  up  to  be  pawned,  and  the 
infuriated  man  had  rushed  at  her  with  curses,  and 
struck  her.  She  was  not  to  be  cowed  by  words  or 
even  by  blows,  and  she  had  defended  her  sacred 
relic  desperately,  until  in  an  outburst  of  rage  the 
madman  threw  her  to  the  ground,  and,  catching  up 
a  carving  knife  from  the  table,  thrust  it  at  her 
throat.  Then  she  yielded,  but  it  was  with  tears 
of  anger  rather  than  fear.  It  would  not  take  him 
long  to  spend  the  money  he  received  from  the 
pawnbroker.  She  was  expecting  him  to  return  at 
any  moment  to  demand  some  of  Nellie's  trinkets 
or  some  of  the  household  belongings. 


202  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

11  An'  IVe  worked  so  hard  to  keep  the  house 
together,"  said  the  girl  with  the  hot  tears  still  in 
her  eyes.  "  An'  if  he  goes  on  like  this,  there 
won't  be  a  thing  left  in  a  day  or  two!  An'  me 
and  Nellie  haven't  had  a  thing  to  eat  all  day!  " 
she  added. 

"It's  my  birthday,  too!"  chimed  in  Nellie. 
Her  long-lashed  eyes  filled  again  with  tears,  and 
her  delicate  red  lips  quivered.  "  I'm  eight  to-day 
and  I  thought  he'd  bring  me  such  a  nice  present ! 
He  said  he'd  give  me  a  fine  time  on  my  birthday, 
an'  I've  been  crying  all  day." 

The  story  was  sad  enough,  indeed,  but  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer  saw  in  it  an  even  tragic  significance. 
The  situation  was  acutely  dangerous.  Aside 
from  the  risk  that  the  man  in  his  crazed  condition 
might  seriously  injure  one  of  these  defenceless 
children,  there  was  the  probability  that  he  would 
carry  out  the  threat  he  had  made  to  Jessie  to 
bring  home  with  him  some  of  his  drunken  com- 
panions and  carouse  with  them  all  night,  leaving 
the  two  girls  at  the  mercy  of  a  roomful  of  intoxi- 
cated men.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  briefly 
considered  the  matter,  then  she  went  out  swiftly, 
promising  to  return  in  a  moment.  First  she  sent 
a  message  to  the  church  for  reinforcements. 
Then  she  bought  some  food,  which  included  a 
birthday  cake  for  Nellie. 

Nellie's  eyes  glowed  at  sight  of  the  cake  and 
when  the  candles  were  lighted,  her  joy  knew  no 


A   BATTLE   WITH    DEMONS        203 

bounds.  They  were  in  the  midst  of  a  jolly  little 
birthday  party,  when  they  heard  a  heavy  stumbling 
step  on  the  stair.  "He's  coming!"  cried  the 
girls.  For  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  the  situation 
was  a  dangerous  one.  No  one  had  come  to  her 
aid.  To  face  alone  a  man  who  was  so  mad  with 
drink  that  he  had  tried  to  kill  his  own  children  is 
hardly  a  pleasant  task,  and  this  man  was  a  des- 
perate character,  who  in  his  present  mood  would 
not  hesitate  a  moment  to  strike  a  woman  or  knock 
her  down.  Yet  retreat  never  entered  her  mind. 
If  her  heart  beat  more  rapidly  as  she  waited  to 
see  what  sort  of  a  creature  it  was  with  which  she 
had  to  deal,  no  one  could  have  detected  it. 

In  a  moment  the  door  was  thrown  violently 
open,  and  a  huge  man  entered  with  the  lurching, 
swinging  stride  of  a  sailor.  He  had  been  fighting, 
his  coat  was  torn,  a  heavy  blow  on  the  cheek  bone 
had  caused  a  swelling  that  made  his  eyes  seem 
narrower  and  more  piglike  than  ever,  and  his 
drooping,  sandy  moustache  had  a  stain  of  blood 
upon  it.  He  was  from  the  North  of  Ireland,  and 
his  origin  was  evident  in  his  speech,  thickened 
though  it  was  by  drink. 

"  Gi'  me  s'  money,  Jessie,"  he  shouted,  "  gotter 
have  s'  money!  " 

"  I  haven't  got  none,"  said  Jessie  sullenly. 

"  Yes,  ye  have,  too !  don't  give  me  no  back  talk! 
I  know  yer  tricks !  "  and  he  advanced  upon  her 
with  doubled  fist. 


204  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  rose  and  stepped  for- 
ward with  a  swift  movement  that  brought  her 
between  the  enraged  man  and  his  daughter. 

"  Good  evening,   Mr.  Sanderson/'  she  said. 

He  had  been  so  absorbed  in  his  quest  for  the 
money  that  he  had  paid  no  attention  to  her.  Now 
he  turned  upon  her  with  surprise  and  wrath.  The 
veins  on  his  forehead  thickened.  With  that  sul- 
len scowl  on  his  face  he  was  as  ugly  a  beast  as  ever 
assumed  a  human  shape,  and  many  a  strong  man 
would  have  thought  twice  before  pursuing  the  con- 
versation. 

"  What're  ye  doin'  here?"  he  shouted. 
"  Teachin'  my  girls  to  disobey  their  father.  I'll 
teach  you  to  butt  in." 

He  gave  a  quick  lurch  toward  her.  His  move- 
ments had  the  uncertain  and  violent  suddenness  of 
a  man  maddened  by  alcohol.  In  another  moment 
he  would  have  struck  her  down,  as  he  had  just 
knocked  down  two  men  who  barred  his  way  in  the 
saloon.  She  faced  him,  tall  and  slender,  with 
head  erect.  Her  aquiline  nostrils  quivered  a  little, 
and  her  firm  lips  tightened  slightly,  but  from  be- 
neath her  high  brow  her  deep,  steady  eyes,  un- 
flinching and  calm,  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 

11  Mr.  Sanderson,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  know 
you  are  a  gentleman,  and  that  you  would  never  do 
anything  discourteous  to  a  lady." 

With  those  eyes  upon  him,  the  drunken  brute 
faltered.     His  hands  sunk  to  his  side.     A  foolish 


A   BATTLE   WITH    DEMONS        205 

smile,  half  of  embarrassment,  half  of  conceit,  came 
over  his  face.  "  A  gentleman?  Yes,  sure  I'm  a 
gentleman!  "  he  said.  He  gave  his  shoulders  a 
sudden  hunch,  as  if  his  coat  were  too  tight  for 
them,  and  expanded  his  chest  in  imitation  of  the 
person  of  quality  he  was  supposed  to  resemble. 
Then  he  let  out  a  cracked  and  maudlin  laugh,  that 
sounded  like  the  crow  of  a  hoarse  rooster. 

The  girls  looked  on,  amazed  that  he  had  not 
struck  down  their  visitor.  He  could  hardly  ac- 
count for  it  himself.  When  he  rushed  at  any  one 
with  his  huge  fist  poised,  he  was  accustomed  to  see 
either  fear  or  rage  in  his  victim's  eyes,  and  then 
it  was  easy  to  strike.  But  in  these  eyes  there  was 
no  trace  of  fear  nor  rage,  nor  yet  that  more  mad- 
dening expression  of  disgust  and  contempt.  They 
were  challenging  him  on  a  point  of  honour,  as  if 
they  refused  to  accept  him  at  his  face  value. 
They  seemed  to  question  and  probe,  but  not  to 
laugh  at  him.  There  was  almost  a  reverence  in 
them.  He  felt  she  had  found  in  him  something 
that  deserved  respect,  and  it  pleased  him.  He 
paid  little  attention  to  her  words,  but  the  sympa- 
thy in  her  voice  arrested  him.  She  was  not  fault- 
finding, as  other  women  were.  Vague  images  out 
of  the  past  rose  before  his  bleared  eyes:  the  image 
of  a  white-haired  woman  by  the  fireside,  whose 
hands  were  stretched  out  to  bless  him,  the  vision 
of  a  fair-faced  bride  who  long  ago  had  trusted  him 
and  believed  him  true.     The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 


206  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

talked  on  of  his  home,  and  of  little  Nellie,  and  of 
her  disappointment  that  her  birthday  had  been 
forgotten. 

"Poor  little  Nellie!  "  said  Sanderson,  maudlin 
tears  coming  into  his  eyes.  "  Shure,  'tis  a  shame ! 
It's  a  bad  day  she's  had  for  sure!  Never  mind, 
dearie,  your  dad'll  give  you  a  fine  present  some 
day!  But  I'm  too  poor  now.  I'm  out  o'  work. 
What  can  a  man  do?  Dear!  dear!  it's  terrible!  " 
and  he  gave  a  long  sigh. 

"  You  see  we  have  a  birthday  cake,  anyway," 
said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  Isn't  that  nice? 
Sit  down  and  join  the  party." 

"  No,"  said  Sanderson,  "  I  must  go." 

A  sudden  fierceness  came  into  his  face,  and  he 
turned  to  Jessie.  "Now  give  me  that  money! 
I've  got  to  have  it!     I  won't  stand  no  foolin' !  " 

He  lifted  his  huge  fist  again.  For  the  moment 
he  was  out  of  the  range  of  the  glance  by  which 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  held  him. 

11  Mr.  Sanderson!  "  she  called. 

Her  voice,  though  quiet,  was  so  firm  and  au- 
thoritative that  Sanderson  turned,  expecting  a 
tirade  and  preparing  to  face  it  with  a  burst  of 
rage.  But  instead  of  a  scolding  he  met  a  glance 
of  grateful  confidence  that  seemed  to  thank  him 
for  his  quick  understanding  and  prompt  response. 
She  seemed  so  sure  that  no  further  word  could 
possibly  be  necessary,  that  he  gave  a  gasp  of 
astonishment.     Before  he  could  speak  she  was  in- 


A   BATTLE   WITH    DEMONS        207 

quiring  in  a  tone  of  great  sympathy  how  he  had 
come  to  lose  his  position  as  pressman,  and  to  meet 
with  such  hard  luck.  There  is  nothing  a  drunken 
man  loves  more  than  to  dilate  on  his  misfortunes, 
and  Sanderson,  willing  to  be  beguiled,  sank  down 
on  the  sofa. 

"  Hard  luck!  Yes!  Ah  me!  Ochone!  Yes! 
I've  had  nothin'  but  hard  luck.  I  believe  the  divil 
is  afther  me !  "  His  eyes,  half  bleared  with 
drink,  seemed  to  catch  a  strange  glint  of  terror. 

"  Did  ye  ever  see  the  divil,  now?  "  he  asked  in 
a  thick  whisper.     "  I  did;  or  somethin'  like  him." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer,  thankful  to  have  led  his  mind  away  from 
drink,  even  though  it  was  to  the  devil. 

"  It  was  a  few  months  ago.  We  was  livin'  in 
Catherine  Street  in  some  rooms  we  got  cheap  be- 
cause a  dago  got  murdered  there,  and  they  said 
the  rooms  was  haunted.  An'  one  night  we'd  been 
having  a  bit  of  a  jolly  time,  an'  I  went  into  me 
room  and  laid  down  on  me  bed.  Pretty  soon  the 
lights  began  to  go  out,  an'  I  thinks,  '  That's 
funny !  '  but  I  stays  on  me  bed.  An'  it  gets  darker 
an'  darker,  an'  by  an'  by  I  sees  the  door  openin' 
slow  an'  still  like."  His  voice  sunk  to  a  thick 
whisper. 

"  An'  through  the  door  come  a  man,  the  biggest 
man  I  ever  see,  big  an'  black,  he  was.  An'  he 
comes  nearer  an'  nearer,  an'  shure  he  had  no  head 
at  all,  at  all !     An'  I  tried  to  yell,  an'  I  couldn't 


208  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

open  me  head,  an'  I  tried  to  jump  up  an'  I  couldn't 
move  so  much  as  me  finger.  An'  the  cole  sweat 
was  pout-in'  off  me  in  streams!  On  he  come,  an' 
I  sees  he  had  his  head  in  his  hands, —  all  drippin' 
blood,  it  was.  An'  he  comes  right  up  to  me, — 
shakin'  like  a  leaf  I  was, —  an  puts  the  head  right 
down  on  me  chist!  An'  wid  that  I  gives  out  a 
yell  like  a  fire  engine,  an'  jumps  off  the  bed  and 
runs  clean  through  the  house  an'  out  into  the 
street!  An'  when  we  went  back  the  man  was 
gone.  I  moved  out  o'  the  house  pretty  quick,  but 
the  bad  luck  rollers  me.  Ah  me !  Ochone !  the 
divil  is  after  me !     Shure  that's  the  trouble !  " 

"  Is  it?  "  she  asked,  with  a  smile.  "  I'm  afraid 
the  trouble  is  that  you  don't  really  want  to  get 
away." 

He  sprawled  with  his  huge  length  over  the  sofa, 
and  she  began  to  speak  seriously  and  sympatheti- 
cally of  the  life  he  had  been  living.  She  told  him 
plainly  what  she  thought  of  his  behaviour,  and  he 
sat  quietly  and  listened,  although  he  would  have 
knocked  a  man  down  for  saying  half  as  much. 
For  he  felt  that,  though  she  rebuked  him,  it  was 
because  she  had  found  something  in  him  she  re- 
spected and  trusted,  and  he  recognised  that  she 
had  a  right  to  speak  as  she  did.  It  was  the  same 
right  which  he  had  acknowledged  in  those  who 
years  ago  had  believed  in  him  —  the  claim  which 
faith  and  love  always  have  over  a  man's  life. 
The  battle  was  won  long  before  help  came,  and 


A   BATTLE   WITH    DEMONS        209 

the  girls  were  safe  that  night  from  terrors  worse 
than  death.  On  her  way  uptown  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  ended  her  account  of  the  evening  by 
saying:  "  I  don't  care  what  you  say!  I  like  Mr. 
Sanderson.  There's  something  that's  really  worth 
while  at  the  bottom  of  that  man." 


XXI 

A   STRANGE   DISCIPLINARIAN 

"  Say,  won't  yc  come  over  to  my  house  and  see  me 
mommer?"  said  little  Annie,  slipping  her  hand 
into  that  of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  as  they  came 
out  of  the  mission  in  Rutgers  Street  together. 
Annie  was  a  mystery  which  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  had  never  solved.  She  had  a  bright)  elfish 
face,  and  shining,  dark  eyes,  and  a  tangle  of  brown 
hair.  She  was  eight  years  old,  but  very  small  and 
delicate  in  every  outline.  I  ler  dress  was  in  rags, 
she  was  barefoot,  and  her  thin  lace  was  white  and 
pinched,  hut  she  was  not  in  the  least  the  ordinary 
street  urchin.  She  had  a  quick  intelligence  and  an 
affectionate  disposition  which  made  her  a  favourite 
with  her  teachers  in  school,  hut  she  had  also  a 
strange  atmosphere  of  another  and  totally  differ- 
ent life,  much  as  the  odour  of  violets  might  cling 
to  a  broken  bottle  in  an  ash  heap.  She  seemed  to 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  like  an  elfin  changeling, 
a  quaint  little  fairy  princess  that  some  old  witeh 
hail  dropped  into  the  most  wretched  poverty- 
stricken  block  in  the  swarming  tenement  district. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  never  been  able 
to  learn  where  she  lived,  ov  anything  about  her 
parents,  and  she  was  therefore  surprised  and  de- 

2IO 


A   STRANGE    DISCIPLINARIAN      211 

lighted  at  this  informal  invitation.  Annie  had 
dropped  in  at  a  children's  meeting  held  in  a  mis- 
sion which  had  recently  been  started  in  the  block, 
and  she  and  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  soon 
become  good  friends.  When  general  topics  of 
conversation  were  introduced,  she  was  a  great 
chatterbox,  but  if  any  question  led  up  to  the  sub- 
ject of  her  parents  or  her  home,  she  would  become 
suddenly  silent,  and  stand  with  shyly  drooping 
head  until  the  danger  was  past.  To-day,  how- 
ever, for  some  reason  she  had  broken  the  taboo. 
Her  elder  sister  looked  down  at  her  with  astonish- 
ment and  rebuke  in  her  face  and  apparently  started 
to  check  her,  but  shyness  was  too  strong  in  her, 
and  she  only  flushed  deeply  and  shifted  from  one 
bare  foot  to  another  as  she  patted  the  baby  in  her 
arms,  who  had  opened  his  mouth  in  preparation 
for  a  good  howl.  He  was  an  enormous  baby  with 
a  grimy  red  face  protruding  from  the  wrappings 
of  a  dirty  grey  shawl,  and  it  took  all  Gertrude's 
slight  strength  with  the  assistance  of  occasional 
desperate  hitches  to  keep  the  huge  animated  bun- 
dle from  wriggling  to  the  ground.  Gertrude  was 
a  beautiful  child,  as  much  advanced  in  her  physical 
development  as  Annie  was  backward.  Though 
but  twelve  years  old  her  form  already  showed  the 
rounded  outlines  of  a  perfect  maidenhood.  She 
had  deep  violet  eyes  and  long  lashes,  and  she  sur- 
veyed the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  dubiously.  A  soft 
flush  played  on  her  rounded  check,  delicate  as  a 


212  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

rose  leaf,  and  her  red  lips  were  parted  in  a  doubt- 
ful smile  that  showed  her  pretty  white  teeth.  As 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  looked  at  her  and  noticed 
the  ragged,  dirty  dress  and  soiled  hands,  the  streak 
of  smut  across  the  piquant  little  nose,  she  felt  more 
than  ever  the  strange  mystery  that  surrounded 
these  children,  so  evidently  of  good  parentage  and 
quick  intelligence,  and  kept  them  in  such  conditions 
of  poverty  and  filth. 

Annie  clung  to  her  hand  and  danced  gaily  at 
her  side,  and  Gertrude  followed  with  reluctant 
steps,  carrying  her  heavy  burden,  and  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  crossed  the  street  and  entered  an  an- 
cient dilapidated  tenement  that  seemed  on  the 
verge  of  dissolution.  Up  the  broken  wooden  steps 
they  went,  and  Annie  burst  open  a  door  in  the 
rear,  and  flew  in  like  a  whirlwind.   , 

"Mommer!"  she  cried.  "  Here's  the  lady 
from  the  mission  come  to  see  you !  "  The  woman 
who  rose  from  an  uncertain  rocking  chair  to  meet 
her  was  one  who  would  have  drawn  the  attention 
of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  anywhere.  She  was 
well  formed,  and  there  was  a  certain  dignity 
about  her  person.  Her  cheeks  were  fair  and 
smooth,  and  her  regular  features  and  her  rosy 
complexion  gave  her  a  surprisingly  youthful  air. 
Her  pale  yellow  hair  had  been  fastened  in  a  knot, 
but  most  of  it  had  escaped  and  hung  about  her 
forehead  and  neck  in  stray  locks.  Her  ragged 
dress  was  open  at  the  throat,  and  was  so  soiled 


A   STRANGE    DISCIPLINARIAN      213 

that  its  original  hue  would  have  been  hard  to  de- 
termine. Her  feet  were  bare,  for  it  was  a  hot 
summer's  day. 

11  I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said.  "  Come  right 
in  and  sit  down." 

Her  red  lips,  parting  in  a  smile  of  welcome,  dis- 
closed a  missing  tooth  or  two.  But  none  of  these 
superficial  deficiencies  seemed  to  embarrass  her  in 
the  least.  She  might  have  been  a  hostess  in  full 
dress  welcoming  her  guests  to  a  Fifth  Avenue 
mansion. 

The  room  was  in  hopeless  confusion.  Although 
the  greasy  debris  of  the  last  meal  had  not  been 
cleaned  away,  the  table  was  half  set  for  a  new 
meal  with  plates  and  knives  and  forks  which  had 
apparently  had  no  close  contact  with  the  dishpan 
since  the  last  occasion  of  their  usefulness.  An  old 
dirty  comforter  lay  in  one  corner,  and  each  chair 
was  occupied  by  ragged  garments  or  by  voluminous 
wrappings,  apparently  discarded  by  the  baby  when 
hopelessly  soiled  and  awaiting  some  laundry  day  in 
the  uncertain  future.  In  the  midst  sat  a  large  pan 
of  beans  prepared  for  the  evening  repast. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  made  the  necessary 
remarks  in  the  way  of  salutation,  but  the  more  she 
looked  about,  the  more  she  was  impressed  by  the 
amazing  incongruity  of  the  scene.  How  had  this 
woman  and  these  children,  so  evidently  belonging 
to  a  different  sphere  in  life,  sunk  to  this  level  of 
wretchedness  and  degradation?     Certainly  there 


214  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY. 

was  a  mystery  here.  What  could  the  father  and 
husband  of  this  family  be  like?  A  hopeless 
drunkard  he  surely  must  be,  to  have  dragged  them 
down  to  this. 

"  Annie's  told  me  a  lot  about  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Dexter,  "  and  I'm  right  glad  to  see  you.  She 
thinks  there's  nobody  in  the  world  like  you.  Now 
you're  here,  won't  you  sit  down  and  take  a  bite  to 
eat  with  us?  Mr.  Dexter  will  be  coming  in  soon, 
and  I'd  like  to  have  you  see  him." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  anxious  to  see 
Mr.  Dexter,  but  the  greasy  table  and  the  unduly 
familiar  relations  between  the  bean-pot  and  the 
garments  of  the  sick  baby  dissuaded  her. 

"  I  am  afraid  they  are  expecting  me  at  home," 
she  said.     "  I  must  be  going." 

"  We  aren't  rich,  and  can't  give  you  a  fine  din- 
ner, but  you  aren't  too  proud  to  sit  down  with  poor 
folks  like  us,  are  you?  "  said  Mrs.  Dexter,  flushing 
a  little  and  looking  at  her  suspiciously. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  exceedingly  anx- 
ious to  win  her  confidence  and  saw  she  had  made  a 
false  step. 

"  Indeed  I'm  not,"  she  said,  "  and  I  should  like 
above  all  things  to  meet  Mr.  Dexter.  If  it's  not 
too  much  trouble,  I'll  stay  and  I  can  send  word  to 
the  church  that  I'll  be  delayed." 

"  That's  fine  now,"  said  Mrs.  Dexter,  a  pleased 
smile  at  once  banishing  the  suspicion  and  wounded 
pride  from  her  face.     "  Here  comes  Hughey,  and 


A   STRANGE    DISCIPLINARIAN      215 

Mr.  Dexter  will  be  in  in  a  minute.  If  you  get  a 
chance,  see  if  you  can't  get  Mr.  Dexter  to  go  to 
work.  He's  an  A-one  engineer,  and  can  make  big 
money,  but  he  had  a  row  with  the  Union,  and  now 
I  can't  get  him  even  to  try  for  a  job.  If  it  wasn't 
for  Hughey,  who's  driving  for  Hecker's  mills  over 
there,  we'd  all  starve.  It  isn't  much  he  brings  in, 
but  it's  enough  to  keep  us  in  beans." 

Was  this  the  explanation  —  a  row  with  the 
Union?  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  became  more 
anxious  than  ever  to  see  Mr.  Dexter.  Just  then 
there  was  a  step  in  the  hall  and  the  door  opened. 

"  Here  he  is !  "  said  Mrs.  Dexter,  and  then  to 
her  husband,  "  This  is  the  lady  from  the  mission 
that  Katy  is  always  talking  about,  and  she's  going 
to  stay  to  supper." 

Mr.  Dexter  was  a  tall  man  with  a  good  figure. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  black  suit  which  was  thread- 
bare but  scrupulously  neat,  and  his  collar  was 
white.  His  dark  hair  was  streaked  with  grey. 
As  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  noticed  his  high  fore- 
head, his  brown  eyes  set  deep  under  heavy  brows, 
his  straight  nose  and  full  firm  chin,  and  she  set 
aside  at  once  the  hypothesis  of  the  hopeless  drunk- 
ard. His  mouth  was  covered  by  a  heavy  black 
moustache,  but  his  features  showed  not  only  intelli- 
gence, but  self-command  and  firm  determination. 
He  looked  at  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  and  then 
gave  a  rapid  glance  about  the  room.  A  frown 
darkened  his  face,  as  his  eyes  finally  rested  on  the 


216  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

dishevelled  costume  of  his  wife.  In  one  swift  look 
he  surveyed  her  from  her  tangled  yellow  locks  to 
her  bare  soiled  feet. 

"  I  should  think  you  could  have  fixed  things  up 
a  bit  before  asking  a  lady  to  supper,"  he  said 
sternly. 

11  Oh,  she  isn't  proud,"  said  Mrs.  Dexter.  "  She 
isn't  ashamed  to  sit  down  with  poor  folks.  He's 
always  like  that,"  she  went  on  to  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer.  "  He's  always  finding  fault  with  the  house 
in  some  way.  But  so  long  as  he  isn't  working,  I 
don't  see  what  I  can  do  about  it." 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  with  stern,  cold 
eyes,  and  seemed  about  to  speak;  then  he  turned 
to  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  you've  come,  anyway,"  he  said, 
"  and  I'm  sorry  we  have  nothing  better  to  offer 
you." 

They  sat  down  and  Mrs.  Dexter  heaped  the 
soiled  plate  in  front  of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
with  an  enormous  portion  of  the  suspected  beans. 
It  was  a  trying  ordeal.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
toyed  with  her  food,  and  conversed  vigorously. 
Then,  availing  herself  of  a  moment  when  Mrs. 
Dexter  had  returned  to  the  stove  and  Mrs.  Dexter 
had  gone  to  the  other  room  to  get  some  papers  to 
show  her,  she  slid  the  beans  dexterously  from  her 
plate  into  a  pail  of  refuse  that  stood  at  hand. 
Mrs.  Dexter  seemed  a  little  astonished  and  much 
pleased  at  her  rapid  consumption  of  her  meal,  and 


A   STRANGE    DISCIPLINARIAN      217 

begged  to  be  allowed  to  fill  her  plate  again,  but 
she  declined  with  grace  and  firmness.  In  the  con- 
versation Mr.  Dexter  showed  much  intelligence. 
He  was  an  engineer  of  the  first  grade  and  showed 
her  the  certificates  of  his  capacity  in  hydraulics, 
pneumatics  and  electricity,  as  well  as  in  the  lower 
grades.  She  tried  to  discover  the  reason  for  his 
being  out  of  work,  and  he  told  a  long  story  of  some 
unjust  demand  of  the  Union  for  the  payment  of  a 
tax  which  he  had  refused.  They  had  then  "  done 
him  out  of  his  job,"  and  he  had  refused  to  pay 
his  dues,  with  the  result  that  he  was  now  ruled  out 
from  all  Union  jobs  in  the  city. 

The  determined  character  of  the  man  showed  in 
the  story.  If  he  thought  he  was  wronged,  he 
would  undoubtedly  go  to  any  length  rather  than 
give  in,  but  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  more 
and  more  convinced  that  this  was  not  the  root  of 
the  difficulty.  When  she  offered  to  interview  cer- 
tain persons  who  would  set  him  right  with  the 
Union,  he  met  her  proposition  evasively.  She 
changed  the  subject,  and  spoke  of  the  children. 
He  said  that  though  he  was  a  Catholic  he  did  not 
mind  having  the  children  go  to  the  mission.  His 
wife  was  a  Protestant  and  he  thought  they  would 
get  no  harm  from  going  to  a  meeting  now  and 
then.  This  opened  up  a  new  possibility.  In  the 
experience  of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  the  most 
degraded  families  were  those  in  which  there  was  a 
mixed  marriage.     Things  usually  went  well  enough 


218  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

with  the  married  pair  until  the  children  were  born, 
then  there  was  a  violent  dispute  as  to  their  baptism 
and  as  to  what  church  they  should  attend,  which 
after  years  of  bitterness  usually  resulted  in  the 
compromise  that  they  should  go  to  no  church  and 
have  no  religion,  and  after  this  the  degeneration 
of  the  family  life  seemed  to  be  invariable. 

Some  disagreement  of  this  sort  might  easily 
have  occurred  with  such  a  determined  man  as  Dex- 
ter. But  the  more  she  talked  with  him,  the  more 
she  was  convinced  that  he  was  too  broad-minded 
to  wreck  his  life  through  religious  bigotry.  He 
had  a  simple,  reverent  belief  in  God,  but  he  showed 
much  contempt  for  the  conventional  practices  of 
religion.  He  even  said  he  should  like  to  have  the 
children  attend  Sunday  School.  The  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  turned  away  from  the  house  more  per- 
plexed than  ever,  deeply  convinced  that  it  was 
some  strange  mystery  which  kept  this  man  of  first 
class  ability  living  in  filth  in  a  wretched  tumble- 
down tenement  among  the  worst  hoodlums  and 
brawlers  of  the  ward. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  set  herself  to  win 
Dexter's  confidence,  but  he  was  a  sensitive  and  very 
reserved  man,  and  she  found  it  almost  impossible 
to  penetrate  the  barrier  which  he  seemed  to  have 
raised  about  his  thoughts  and  purposes.  She 
knew,  from  the  way  in  which  he  had  looked  about 
the  room,  that  the  filth  of  his  home  was  as  repul- 
sive to  him  as  to  her;  and  from  his  expression  as 


A   STRANGE   DISCIPLINARIAN      219 

his  eyes  rested  on  his  wife,  she  knew  that  it  was 
not  his  wish  that  a  woman  with  her  natural  attrac- 
tions should  go  about  looking  like  a  scarecrow  or 
a  beggar.  And  this  knowledge  rendered  the  situ- 
ation more  and  more  inexplicable. 

It  was  some  months  later  that  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  Dexters,  and 
heard  from  within  Mr.  Dexter's  voice  raised  in 
angry  expostulation.  She  entered  to  find  him 
standing  indignantly  over  Mrs.  Dexter,  who  was 
seated  at  the  table  and  had  succeeded  in  half 
screening  a  large  pail  of  beer  behind  a  newspaper. 
There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  Dexter 
broke  out. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  youVe  come  at  a  good  time. 
Don't  try  to  hide  the  can,"  he  said  to  his  wife. 
"  She  might  just  as  well  know  right  now  what 
you're  up  to. 

"  What  do  you  think?  "  he  went  on  to  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer.  "  That  woman  had  a  nice  little 
house  of  her  own  and  a  pretty  garden  and  every- 
thing she  wanted.  Her  children  were  well 
dressed,  and  there  wasn't  a  thing  she  asked  for 
that  she  didn't  get.  But  whenever  my  back  was 
turned,  in  came  the  can.  And  when  I  came  back 
from  work,  the  house  was  dirty,  the  table  littered 
up  with  grease  and  dirt,  the  children  all  covered 
with  dirt,  and  she  herself  looked  like  a  scarecrow. 
I  talked  to  her,  and  lectured  her.  I  got  angry  and 
scolded,  and  not  a  bit  of  good  did  it  do.     I  tried 


230  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  smiled.  "  Well, 
not  exactly  that,  but  I  think  the  world  of  Peter. 
What  did  he  do?" 

"  It  ain't  what  he  did,  so  much  as  what  he 
didn't  do,  and  what  he  said,"  answered  the  sex- 
ton. 

When  she  asked  her  first  question,  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  had  her  hand  on  the  door,  just  ready 
to  spring  out  to  her  work,  her  slender  figure  was 
alive  with  energy  and  her  lips  were  compressed 
with  the  determination  to  get  through  her  twenty 
calls  that  afternoon  late  as  it  was.  But  some- 
thing about  the  twinkle  in  the  sexton's  eye  de- 
tained her.  She  let  the  door  swing  to,  and  faced 
around. 

11  What  was  it?  What  did  he  say?  "  she  asked 
with  some  curiosity. 

"  If  I  was  to  tell  you  all  the  things  them  Ham- 
ilton kids  says  in  the  yard  of  an  afternoon,  I'd 
get  the  sack  for  sure,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  know  them  well  enough.  You  needn't 
be  afraid  of  me,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  Well,"  said  the  sexton,  "  I  was  goin'  through 
the  yard  with  a  hod  o'  bricks,  that  the  minister 
wanted  up  in  the  pulpit  for  one  o'  these  object  talks 
he's  a  going  to  give.  And  one  o'  them  little  kids 
comes  runnin'  up  with  his  bare  feet, —  a  little  kid 
about  eight  years  old,  he  was, —  and  he  says,  '  Say, 
Mr.  Rainey,  whatcher  goin'  ter  do  wid  them 
bricks.     Goin'  ter  build  a  new  church?'     Well,  I 


CURRICULUM    OF   CITY   LIFE      231 

turns  round  a  bit  to  look  at  him,  and  when  I  turns 
a  brick  on  top  o'  the  hod  slips  off,  and  by  bad  luck 
it  fell  down  right  on  the  little  kid's  bare  toe.  It 
ain't  no  joke  to  have  a  sharp  brick  fall  on  your 
toe  even  when  you  have  a  boot  on,  an'  thinks  I, 
1  I've  paralysed  the  kid  for  sure  this  time,'  and  I 
was  fer  runnin'  in  to  get  the  nurse  to  come  and 
hold  his  hand,  an'  '  wipe  away  them  tears,'  as  the 
sayin'  is,  but  the  little  kid  he  picks  up  his  toe  all 
bloody  from  the  brick  in  one  hand,  and  comes 
hoppin'  up  on  one  foot,  an'  he  give  me  such  a 
look, —  like  I  was  made  o'  dirt, —  an'  says  he : 
4  You'd  make  a  hell  of  a  hod  carrier,  you  would!  ' 
Laugh!  well  say,  it  near  killed  me,  but  I  didn't 
want  to  laugh  out  loud  at  the  kid,  so  I  near  bust. 
He's  got  sand,  all  right.  No  one  is  goin'  to  be 
pityin'  him.  It's  me  that's  deservin'  his  pity  fer 
me  ignorance !  " 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  threw  back  her  head 
and  laughed  lightly  with  an  appreciation  of  the 
scene  which  her  mental  image  of  little  Peter  only 
made  more  delicious.  "  It  surely  was  Peter,"  she 
said.  "  That's  just  the  kind  of  boy  he  is.  I 
must  run  down  and  see  his  father.  It  is  time  now 
for  him  to  come  home  from  work." 

A  few  minutes  later  she  was  climbing  the  top 
flight  of  stairs  in  a  crowded  Hamilton  Street  tene- 
ment. The  door  of  one  apartment  at  the  back 
was  open,  and  within  she  could  see  a  man  down 
on  his  knees  energetically  scrubbing  the  floor  while 


222  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

he  would  not  spend  a  penny  in  fitting  up  his  own 
home  until  these  were  all  settled. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  visited  the  family 
at  frequent  intervals,  inspected  the  condition  of 
the  house,  and  applied  a  little  tactful  stimulus  to 
Mrs.  Dexter,  whenever  she  discovered  danger  of 
a  relapse.  Mrs.  Dexter  did  her  utmost  to  stand 
well  with  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  One  day, 
when  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  knew  the  Dexters 
had  been  having  an  especially  hard  time  with  far 
too  little  food,  Annie  appeared  at  the  church  with 
a  large  tin  can.  She  came  up  slowly  to  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer,  a  tiny  figure  wrapped  in  an  old 
shawl,  which  concealed  the  deficiencies  in  her  dress. 
Her  head  drooped,  and  she  looked  up  sideways 
out  of  the  corner  of  her  eyes. 

"  Me  Mommer  sent  you  this,"  she  said.  "  Me 
cousin  from  Long  Island  brought  them  over  to  us, 
and  me  Mommer  said  I  was  to  take  them  all  up 
to  you." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  opened  the  pail  and 
saw  that  it  was  filled  with  fine,  fat  frog's  legs. 
She  was  deeply  touched  by  this  self-sacrificing  act 
on  the  part  of  the  Dexters,  this  wish  to  hand  over 
to  her  a  bit  of  choice  food  when  they  were  on  the 
edge  of  starvation.     She  answered  with  feeling. 

"  Thank  you,  ever  so  much,  Annie.  I  don't 
know  when  I've  had  a  gift  that  I  appreciated 
more,  but  I  can't  take  them  all.  I'll  take  out 
some  and  send  the  rest  back  for  you  to  eat." 


A   STRANGE    DISCIPLINARIAN      223 

"  Oh,  never  mind!  "  said  Annie,  looking  up  in 
some  alarm,  "  me  Mommer  said  they  might  pizen 
us!" 

Month  after  month  passed,  and  lengthened  into 
years.  Gertrude  had  grown  into  a  charming 
maiden  of  fifteen,  full  of  life  and  of  the  love  of 
pleasure,  natural  to  her  age  and  sex.  But  the  old 
regime  continued.  She  still  wore  an  old  thread- 
bare gown,  and  it  was  still  her  lot  to  tend  the  baby, 
a  new  one  now,  all  day.  Her  mother  even  at  her 
best  was  never  an  active  housewife,  and  most  of 
the  hard  cleaning  and  washing  and  scrubbing  fell 
upon  Gertrude.  If  she  had  been  permitted  to  go 
out  for  a  little  fun  after  her  work  was  finished,  she 
would  probably  have  remained  satisfied  to  slave; 
but  after  cruel  drudgery  to  be  turned  out  in  the 
street  in  a  soiled  old  dress  with  a  huge  howling 
burden  to  carry  about  wherever  she  went  was  a 
trying  lot  for  a  girl  who  was  gradually  beginning 
to  realise  that  she  was  beautiful  enough  to  com- 
mand the  attention  of  every  man  in  the  block. 
There  are  limits  beyond  which  the  flexible  nature 
of  a  girl,  beautiful,  high-tempered,  and  full  of  the 
passion  of  life,  cannot  be  bent;  and  so  it  came 
about  that  after  the  baby  was  put  to  bed  in  the 
evening,  Gertrude  often  slipped  away,  and  it  was 
sometimes  late  before  she  returned.  Her  father 
was  on  night  work  at  the  time.  Mrs.  Dexter 
never  dared  to  tell  her  husband  of  Gertrude's  es- 
capades, and  the  girl  was  a  silent  child  who  never 


224  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

spoke  of  what  concerned  her  alone.  Her  mother 
could  not  extract  a  syllable  as  to  where  she  had 
been.  Dexter  was  working  night  and  day  in  the 
effort  to  pay  off  his  debts,  and  the  hard  labour  left 
its  traces  upon  his  health.  During  those  days  of 
hunger  and  destitution  in  the  filth  of  Rutgers 
Street,  the  White  Death,  the  terrible  scourge  of 
the  tenements,  had  laid  its  hand  upon  him. 
Every  day  he  came  back  paler  and  thinner,  a  dry 
cough  shook  him,  and  his  temper  became  more  and 
more  uncertain. 

One  night  Dexter  returned  unexpectedly  from 
work  at  ten  o'clock.  Gertrude  was  out,  and  he 
gradually  drew  from  the  frightened  mother  the 
story  of  the  past  months.  He  had  come  back 
from  work  exhausted,  but  as  he  grasped  the  truth, 
a  tide  of  furious  indignation  swept  through  him. 
His  hollow  eyes  flashed  unpleasantly,  and  a  spot 
of  colour  showed  on  his  haggard  cheek.  He 
tramped  restlessly  up  and  down  the  bare  wooden 
floor  of  the  kitchen,  biting  his  moustache  and 
awaiting  the  girl's  return,  while  his  wife  sat  by 
tearful  and  dishevelled,  trying,  to  disarm  his 
wrath  by  occasional  ejaculations.  It  was  nearly 
midnight,  when  they  heard  a  light  foot-fall  on  the 
stair,  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  Gertrude 
stood  before  them,  looking  very  pretty  in  the  long, 
red  cloak  that  was  flung  over  her  shoulders. 
Her  delicate  cheeks  were  glowing,  and  her  long- 
lashed  eyes  flashed  with  excitement.     She  stopped 


A   STRANGE   DISCIPLINARIAN      225 

in  sudden  terror  as  she  saw  her  father.  She 
turned  white  and  shrank  back  in  dismay. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  said  her  father  in 
low,  stern  tones. 

His  face  was  ghastly  white  now,  and  his  eyes 
flamed  with  a  dangerous  light.  She  stood  in 
silence,  and  slowly  the  little  head  she  had  held  so 
haughtily  with  the  piquant  nose  in  air,  sunk  down 
upon  her  breast. 

"  Come,  girl,  tell  me  where  you've  been !  " 

The  low  tones  of  his  voice  cut  like  a  whip  and 
still  she  made  no  answer.  He  sprang  forward, 
and  seized  her  by  the  wrist,  and  with  a  sudden 
jerk  dragged  her  cloak  from  her.  Then  he 
stepped  back  in  wrath  and  disgust.  She  wore  the 
garments  used  by  the  girls  who  dance  in  the  low 
Bowery  dives.  Sudden  uncontrollable  anger 
flamed  in  his  brain.  While  he  was  seeking  to  re- 
store his  home  and  his  name  to  honour,  this  girl, 
his  child,  was  disgracing  herself  and  him  in  the 
lowest  haunts  of  the  city. 

"  You  vile  hussy,"  he  cried.  "  You've  no 
shame  in  you!  You  ought  to  be  kicked  out  into 
the  street,  but  I'll  teach  you  a  lesson  that  you'll 
never  forget." 

The  heavy  teamster's  whip  that  his  son  used  in 
driving  the  great  cart  horses  for  the  mills  was 
leaning  in  the  corner.  Dexter  seized  it  with  a 
nervous  clutch.  He  strode  forward  and  caught 
the  girl  again  by  the  wrists. 


226  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

"  We'll  see  if  we  can't  take  a  little  of  the 
shamelessness  out  of  that  pretty  skin  of  yours," 
he  said.  "  I'd  sooner  see  you  dead  than  have  you 
go  on  like  this.  You,  my  daughter!  You're 
worse  than  the  vilest  dog  in  the  streets,  and  I'll 
show  you  how  I  treat  such  as  you." 

He  raised  the  heavy  whip,  but  now  the  girl 
faced  him.  Her  head  was  up.  The  violet  eyes 
flashed  with  indignation,  and  her  cheeks  were 
scarlet  with  anger.  With  a  sudden  twist  of  his 
wiry  arm,  he  threw  her  down,  and  the  lash  de- 
scended. At  first  she  lay  silent  under  the  blows, 
biting  her  soft  lip  till  it  bled,  then  a  low  moan 
escaped  her  and  then  a  scream.  Still  the  blows 
fell,  and  it  was  not  till  she  lay,  white  and  half 
unconscious  that  he  desisted. 

"  There,"  he  said,  beginning  to  feel  some  con- 
punction.  "  That'll  teach  you  a  lesson.  From 
now  on  I  mean  you  to  be  a  decent  girl." 

He  left  the  mother  to  care  for  her  and  put  her 
to  bed.  But  Gertrude  was  silent,  and  there  was 
a  strained,  far-away  look  in  her  eyes.  She  made 
no  response  to  her  mother's  awkward  caresses. 

When  they  looked  for  her  in  the  morning,  she 
was  gone.  They  searched  the  house ;  they  visited 
the  neighbours;  they  patrolled  the  Bowery;  they 
notified  the  Police  —  but  they  never  found  her 
again.  To  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  it  was  a 
terrible  blow,  and  she  never  ceased  to  feel  the 
sadness  and  horror  of  it.     Often  she  would  stop 


A   STRANGE    DISCIPLINARIAN      227 

in  her  work  to  wonder  what  had  become  of  this 
beautiful  child,  who  in  the  midst  of  her  drudgery 
had  sought  a  little  of  that  pleasure  which  is  the 
rightful  portion  of  every  girl,  and  who  had  sunk 
suddenly  out  of  sight  in  the  black  bottomless  whirl- 
pool of  the  great  city's  life,  without  so  much  as  a 
ripple  to  mark  where  she  had  disappeared. 

Dexter  never  recovered  from  the  blow.  At 
last  his  debts  were  paid.  His  house  was  pleasant 
and  comfortable  once  more.  His  faith  in  his  wife 
had  not  been  misplaced.  Thanks  to  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  the  long  terrible  struggle  had  not 
been  in  vain.  For  it  had  been  her  faith  that  had 
kept  his  wife  from  sinking  back  into  the  old  slough, 
and  that  had  nerved  him  through  all  the  days 
of  bitter  toil,  when  he  had  felt  almost  too  weak 
to  stand.  He  had  won, —  but  he  had  lost  his 
child. 

Many  months  later  the  minister  was  stand- 
ing on  the  corner  of  59th  Street  waiting  for  a  car, 
when  a  tall  graceful  lady  accosted  him.  She  was 
stylishly  dressed,  and  there  was  something 
strangely  familiar  in  the  piquant  little  nose  and 
violet  eyes  that  looked  out  at  him  from  under  the 
shadow  of  the  large  plumed  hat. 

"  Don't  you  know  me?  "  she  asked. 

It  came  over  him  suddenly. 

"  Gertrude  Dexter!  "  he  cried.  "  Where  have 
you  been,  and  what  are  you  doing  now?  M 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  she  said.     "  I'm  married 


228  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

to  a  fine  man,  and  we  live  uptown  in  our  own  lit- 
tle apartment,  and  I'm  as  happy  as  can  be." 

"  Tell  me  where  you  are,"  he  said.  "  Your 
father  and  mother  are  broken-hearted  for  loss  of 
you." 

She  tapped  her  dainty  high-heeled  shoe  with 
her  parasol  nervously. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  never  want  to  see  them  or 
hear  of  them  again,"  and  she  turned  swiftly  and 
was  lost  in  the  crowd. 


XXII 

THE    CURRICULUM    OF    CITY    LIFE 

11  WAS  little  Peter  Mercer  in  the  yard  with  the 
boys  this  afternoon?"  asked  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  of  the  sexton.  It  was  the  boys'  afternoon 
in  the  church  yard,  which  had  been  turned  into 
an  extempore  gymnasium,  and  quite  a  horde  of 
them  had  just  departed  after  performing  a  va- 
riety of  bewildering  antics  on  the  swings  and  tra- 
peze and  bars. 

"  Peter  Mercer?  "  said  the  sexton.  "  I'm  not 
sure  as  I'm  onto  his  shape.  There  was  enough 
of  them  Hamilton  Street  kids  here.  Say,  them 
little  jiggers  is  somethin5  fierce.  One  o'  them 
little  angels  o'  yours  made  me  laugh  till  I  near 
split.     Like  as  not  it  was  Peter." 

He  pushed  his  hat  back  on  his  brow,  and 
scratched  his  head  as  a  suppressed  grin  spread 
slowly  from  ear  to  ear. 

"  Why,  what  did  he  do?  "  asked  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer.  "  He's  a  dear  little  fellow,  if  it 
was  Peter,  but  he  is  rather  funny." 

"  Sure  he's  a  dear,  all  right,"  said  the  sexton, 
the  grin  spreading  a  little,  "  one  o'  these  here 
mamma's-darlin',  Sunday-School  angels,  ain't 
he?" 

229 


230  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  smiled.  "  Well, 
not  exactly  that,  but  I  think  the  world  of  Peter. 
What  did  he  do?" 

"  It  ain't  what  he  did,  so  much  as  what  he 
didn't  do,  and  what  he  said,"  answered  the  sex- 
ton. 

When  she  asked  her  first  question,  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer  had  her  hand  on  the  door,  just  ready 
to  spring  out  to  her  work,  her  slender  figure  was 
alive  with  energy  and  her  lips  were  compressed 
with  the  determination  to  get  through  her  twenty 
calls  that  afternoon  late  as  it  was.  But  some- 
thing about  the  twinkle  in  the  sexton's  eye  de- 
tained her.  She  let  the  door  swing  to,  and  faced 
around. 

"  What  was  it?  What  did  he  say?  "  she  asked 
with  some  curiosity. 

"  If  I  was  to  tell  you  all  the  things  them  Ham- 
ilton kids  says  in  the  yard  of  an  afternoon,  I'd 
get  the  sack  for  sure,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  know  them  well  enough.  You  needn't 
be  afraid  of  me,"  said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  Well,"  said  the  sexton,  "  I  was  goin'  through 
the  yard  with  a  hod  o'  bricks,  that  the  minister 
wanted  up  in  the  pulpit  for  one  o'  these  object  talks 
he's  a  going  to  give.  And  one  o'  them  little  kids 
comes  runnin'  up  with  his  bare  feet, —  a  little  kid 
about  eight  years  old,  he  was, —  and  he  says,  *  Say, 
Mr.  Rainey,  whatcher  goin'  ter  do  wid  them 
bricks.     Goin'  ter  build  a  new  church?  '     Well,  I 


CURRICULUM    OF   CITY   LIFE      231 

turns  round  a  bit  to  look  at  him,  and  when  I  turns 
a  brick  on  top  o'  the  hod  slips  off,  and  by  bad  luck 
it  fell  down  right  on  the  little  kid's  bare  toe.  It 
ain't  no  joke  to  have  a  sharp  brick  fall  on  your 
toe  even  when  you  have  a  boot  on,  an'  thinks  I, 
'  I've  paralysed  the  kid  for  sure  this  time,'  and  I 
was  fer  runnin'  in  to  get  the  nurse  to  come  and 
hold  his  hand,  an'  '  wipe  away  them  tears/  as  the 
sayin'  is,  but  the  little  kid  he  picks  up  his  toe  all 
bloody  from  the  brick  in  one  hand,  and  comes 
hoppin'  up  on  one  foot,  an'  he  give  me  such  a 
look, —  like  I  was  made  o'  dirt, —  an'  says  he : 
1  You'd  make  a  hell  of  a  hod  carrier,  you  would !  ' 
Laugh !  well  say,  it  near  killed  me,  but  I  didn't 
want  to  laugh  out  loud  at  the  kid,  so  I  near  bust. 
He's  got  sand,  all  right.  No  one  is  goin'  to  be 
pityin'  him.  It's  me  that's  deservin'  his  pity  fer 
me  ignorance !  " 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  threw  back  her  head 
and  laughed  lightly  with  an  appreciation  of  the 
scene  which  her  mental  image  of  little  Peter  only 
made  more  delicious.  "  It  surely  was  Peter,"  she 
said.  "  That's  just  the  kind  of  boy  he  is.  I 
must  run  down  and  see  his  father.  It  is  time  now 
for  him  to  come  home  from  work." 

A  few  minutes  later  she  was  climbing  the  top 
flight  of  stairs  in  a  crowded  Hamilton  Street  tene- 
ment. The  door  of  one  apartment  at  the  back 
was  open,  and  within  she  could  see  a  man  down 
on  his  knees  energetically  scrubbing  the  floor  while 


232  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

a  sauce  pan  simmered  on  the  stove.  What 
seemed  an  unlimited  supply  of  children  were  hud- 
dled about  in  various  corners,  leaving  the  man  a 
free  sweep  of  the  floor.  He  rose  as  she  entered. 
He  was  a  slim,  wiry  Cockney  with  a  thin  bronzed 
face,  smooth  shaven,  with  black  hair  and  dark 
eyes.  He  looked  more  like  a  waiter  in  some  up- 
town club  than  a  fourth  ward  workingman.  He 
was  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and  his  arms  were  bared 
and  deep  in  soap  suds. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Mum,  for  looking  like  I  do,"  he 
said.  "  But  I'm  just  'ome  from  work  and  I 
'aven't  'ad  no  time  to  put  the  'ouse  to  rights. 
I've  just  started  in  to  scrub  up  and  get  the  supper, 
and  I  'aven't  'ad  no  chance  to  wash  the  children. 
Look  at  'em!  They'll  be  the  death  of  me. 
What  do  you  think  that  boy  has  been  up  to  now?  " 

He  pointed  to  a  small  boy  of  about  eight  whose 
anatomy  was  concealed  in  a  pair  of  trousers  of 
truly  gigantic  proportions.  The  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  saw  at  once  that  the  father  had  cut  off  a 
few  feet  of  his  own  trousers  and  arrayed  his  son 
therein.  They  came  up  nearly  to  his  shoulders,  and 
his  little  brown  feet  protruded  from  their  ragged 
bottoms.  His  face  was  thin  and  old.  There 
was  a  weird  expression  in  the  wizened  little  coun- 
tenance with  its  funny  wrinkles  around  the  mouth. 
But  if  the  face  seemed  old  it  was  not  reposeful. 
A  pair  of  narrow  black  eyes  sharp  as  those  of  a 
ferret,  were  looking  at  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 


CURRICULUM    OF   CITY    LIFE       233 

from  beneath  a  puckered  little  brow,  with  such 
intense  inquisitiveness  that  she  looked  away  with 
an  uncomfortable  feeling.  It  was  as  if  some  un- 
canny sprite  had  taken  possession  of  the  little 
body,  and  were  waiting  its  chance  to  entrap  her 
and  laugh  at  her  behind  her  back. 

The  destiny  of  the  family  was  hanging  in  the 
balance,  and  she  knew  that  this  little  imp  might 
easily  precipitate  it  into  irremediable  ruin.  He 
had  a  right  to  his  eccentricities,  for  he  was  that 
much  suspected  and  maligned  person,  "  the  son  of 
a  sea-cook."  When  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
first  knew  him,  Mercer  was  cook  on  a  steamer. 
At  that  time  he  assumed  little  responsibility  for 
his  family  beyond  turning  over  a  small  portion  of 
his  pay  to  his  wife  when  he  returned  from  his 
cruises.  The  rest  he  expended  on  the  alcoholic 
stimulus  which  he  felt  to  be  essential  in  preserving 
an  optimistic  outlook  on  life.  The  sudden  death 
of  his  wife  had  given  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
an  opportunity  to  converse  with  him  as  to  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  a  father,  and  the  necessity  of 
turning  over  a  new  leaf.  He  responded  heartily, 
by  being  ashamed  of  his  past  behaviour  and  quite 
overwhelmed  at  the  thought  of  the  five  helpless 
urchins  who  owed  their  existence  to  him;  and  he 
promised  to  realise  as  far  as  possible  such  hazy 
ideals  of  the  Pater  Familias  as  hovered  in  his 
mind.  He  gave  up  his  position  at  once,  and  got 
a  place  in  the  fish  market,  so  that  he  could  return 


234  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

to  the  children  every  evening.  He  cooked  their 
breakfast  every  morning,  left  them  something  to 
eat,  and  went  off  to  work  hard  all  day.  He  re- 
turned at  six,  scrubbed  up  the  house,  got  the  sup- 
per, washed  the  children,  mended  their  clothes 
and  performed  the  various  duties  of  an  efficient 
housewife.  The  house  was  as  neat  and  clean  as  a 
ship's  deck,  and  he  had  kept  everything  in  such 
fine  shape  that  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  rejoiced 
every  time  she  called.  It  seemed  almost  too  good 
to  last.  For  a  man  to  work  hard  all  day  and 
then  to  do  the  housework  for  a  family  of  five 
children  seemed  almost  too  great  a  strain  for  the 
masculine  mind.  Certainly  Mercer  would  have 
fallen  from  grace  long  before  but  for  the  visits 
of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  When  a  man  plays 
the  martyr  so  consistently,  he  requires  some  audi- 
ence to  applaud  and  appreciate,  and  the  continued 
friendship  and  enthusiastic  approval  of  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer  had  been  enough  so  far  to  nerve 
him  to  his  task.  The  approval  even  of  one  per- 
son means  much,  and  if  our  vast  centres  of  popula- 
tion could  ever  be  organised  so  that  each  stray 
individual  would  have  one  friend  vitally  inter- 
ested in  his  success  and  progress,  the  frightful  de- 
generation which  is  the  result  of  the  present  condi- 
tions of  social  isolation  might  be  successfully 
checked. 

"What  is  the  matter  now?"  asked  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer,  taking  her  stand  on  an  island  in 


CURRICULUM   OF   CITY   LIFE      235 

the  swimming  floor  and  surveying  him  with  a 
sympathetic  glance  of  humorous  despair. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  the  kids,"  said 
Mercer,  shaking  the  suds  from  his  hands  in  a  ges- 
ture of  despondency.  "  First  I  locked  them  in 
when  I  went  to  work  in  the  morning,  and  let  them 
out  at  night  when  I  got  back.  And  then  I  read 
as  how  a  tenement  near  by  here  was  burnt  up,  an' 
I  thought  it  would  never  do  to  lock  them  up  like 
that.  Mamie  there  is  twelve  now,  an'  she'd  orter 
be  able  to  look  after  'em,  so  this  mornin'  I  told 
her  to  mind  the  house  and  not  let  any  one  in.  But 
what  does  the  girl  do  but  run  off  to  talk  with  some 
of  the  loafers  on  the  street?  When  she  was  gone, 
Peter  didn't  stay  long  cooped  up,  you  can  bet! 

"  I  was  down  to  the  docks  lookin'  up  some  fish 
as  was  comin'  in,  an'  I  'eard  some  kind  of  a  row 
goin'  on,  an'  found  a  big  crowd  down  on  one  o' 
the  wharves,  sayin'  as  'ow  a  'orse  fell  off  into  the 
river.  They  couldn't  find  'im  or  get  'im  out,  an' 
I  'eard  'em  callin',  '  Go  it  little  'un,  that's  the 
stuff !  '  an'  I  saw  a  little  kid  had  chucked  off  'is 
coat  an'  was  divin'  in  right  under  the  wharf. 
Pretty  soon  out  he  comes  with  the  end  of  a  line. 
4 'Ere  he  is!'  he  says.  *  Pull  on  this!'  an' 
by  —  savin'  your  prisence, —  it  was  Peter!  The 
current  'ad  carried  the  'orse  down  under  the  wharf 
an'  there  he  stuck,  an'  Peter  goes  divin'  in  like  a 
little  rat  an'  gets  the  rein.  An'  they  pulled  the 
'orse  out  with  him  sittin'  on  its  'ead.     Well,  I 


236  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

didn't  know  whether  to  give  'im  a  thrashin'  or 
what,  but  the  crowd  give  'im  a  big  cheer,  an* 
some  one  says:  '  The  kid  should  git  a  medal 
fer  life  savin'  1  '  *  Sure,'  says  another,  i  he 
saved  a  horse,  an'  mpst  o'  them  'eroes  don't  save 
nothin'  but  a  blamed  ass !  '  I'm  not  sayin'  it 
wasn't  plucky,  but  what  can  a  man  do  with  a  house- 
ful o'  kids  like  that?  Livin'  in  this  'ere  city,  it 
seems  like  they  grow  old  so  fast  while  yer  back's 
turned,  that  ye  don't  know  whether  you'll  find  'em 
heroes  or  jailbirds." 


A  CRIMINAL  BY  NECESSITY 


11  The  families  in  this  house  is  all  Sheenies  and 
Eyetalians,  all  but  one,  and  they, —  well,  they're 
Irish  Jews !  "  said  the  housekeeper  with  a  furtive 
grin. 

"  Irish  Jews !  "  exclaimed  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer,  "  that  is  something  new  in  the  ward.  IVe 
met  Japanese  and  Russians,  and  Finns  and  Letts 
and  Lithuanians  and  Greeks,  but  I've  never  seen 
an  Irish  Jew." 

"  It's  a  bit  like  mixin'  water  and  oil,  ain't  it?  " 
responded  the  janitor.  "  They  say  Pat  Moriarty, 
the  feller  that  cut  up  such  a  row  in  the  ward  and 
was  mixed  up  in  the  stabbing  affair  over  to  Tim 
Flannery's, —  well,  they  say  Pat  says  to  his  wife 
one  day,  says  he,  '  When  I  kick  up  me  heels,  mind 
you  take  and  bury  me  over  to  the  Sheeny  Ceme- 
tury  in  Chatham  Square.'  An'  says  she,  rollin' 
her  eyes  in  horror :  *  What  for  would  I  be  puttin' 
the  bones  of  a  good  Irishman  from  County  Cork 
among  all  them  Jews  ? '  An'  says  he,  wid  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  '  Put  me  there,  Kate ;  put  me 
there.  Sure,  'tis  the  last  place  the  divil  will  be 
lookin'  for  me.'  " 

The  tale  was  one  in  which  the  ward  delighted, 
and  the  grin  on  the  janitor's  countenance  was  so 
irresistible  that  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  laughed 

239 


240  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

as  spontaneously  as  if  the  denouement  had  been 
unexpected.  No  strangers  who  saw  her  in  her 
trim  winter  suit  of  soft  brown,  that  harmonised  so 
delightfully  with  the  tint  of  her  hair  and  gave 
such  an  air  of  youth  to  her  energetic  figure,  would 
have  suspected  her  of  being  anything  akin  to  that 
highly  virtuous  but  occasionally  unpopular  slum 
angel,  the  "  missionary  lady."  Generations  of 
Puritan  ancestors  had  indeed  bestowed  upon  her 
a  mouth  straight  and  firm,  an  aquiline  nose  and  a 
strong  chin  not  to  be  trifled  with.  These  deter- 
mined features  were  forgotten  however,  because 
of  her  eyes, —  eyes  which  Botticelli  might  have 
painted  in  some  St.  Elizabeth  who  had  seen  much 
of  life's  struggle  and  pondered  long  on  human 
weakness,  and  which  yet  had  not  lost  that  mis- 
chievous glint  that  so  often  makes  strangers  kin. 
They  were  twinkling  now  as  she  answered  the 
janitor. 

"  I  imagine  Pat  is  safe.  I,  for  one,  shan't  look 
for  him  there,  and  I  don't  think  I  shall  climb 
many  stairs  looking  for  a  family  of  Irish 
Jews." 

"I'm  tellin'  ye  straight;  they're  Irish  Jews  all 
right,"  said  the  janitor,  aggrieved  at  her  lack  of 
faith,  "  and  say,"  he  came  a  step  nearer  and  spoke 
mysteriously,  u  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  they  had 
some  reason  for  dodging  the  divil.  There's 
somethin'  mighty  queer  about  'em.  The  man's 
a  cock-eyed  little  bantam,  and  I'll  bet  me  hat  he 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      241 

ain't  on  the  level.  He  hits  the  pipe  or  plays  the 
ponies  or  tips  off  some  gang  o'  crooks, —  you  take 
it  from  me,  he's  up  to  something.  Go  up  and 
see  fer  yourself.  They've  got  a  lot  o'  kids  fer 
your  Sunday  School.  They're  on  the  third  floor, 
front,  left." 

The  lady  was  anxious  to  learn  if  such  an  in- 
credible compound  of  nation  and  creed  had  in 
truth  been  precipitated  in  this  strange  laboratory 
of  human  nature.  She  set  off  at  once  with  swift 
steps  to  explore.  She  had  been  standing  in  the 
dark  hall  of  the  front  house  while  she  conversed 
with  the  janitor,  who  was  going  through  certain 
motions  which  would  lead  the  world  to  suppose  he 
was  scrubbing  down  the  stairs.  She  went  out  the 
back  door,  crossed  the  narrow  stone-paved  court, 
and  began  to  run  lightly  up  the  worn  steps  of  the 
rear  house,  whistling  a  snatch  of  song  as  she  went. 
She  knocked  at  the  door  indicated  by  the  janitor, 
and  a  voice  called  "  Come  in !  "  It  was  an  unusu- 
ally sweet  and  pleasant  voice,  very  different  from 
the  strident  and  raucous  tones  of  foreign  accent 
that  usually  saluted  the  ears  in  the  fourth  ward, 
and  she  was  at  once  interested  in  its  owner.  She 
opened  the  door  upon  the  usual  two-room  apart- 
ment, with  its  bare  floors,  stove,  kitchen  table,  a 
few  wooden  chairs,  and,  in  the  room  beyond,  a 
bed.  There  was  little  enough,  but  it  is  surprising 
out  of  what  rudimentary  materials  the  hand  of 
genius  can  create  a  home.     It  was  evident  that 


242  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

such  a  hand  was  here.  Even  without  the  cleverly 
arranged  flowers  and  coloured  prints,  the  room 
with  its  smooth  white  floors  and  shining  table  and 
gleaming  dishes  was  bright  enough  in  itself,  a  true 
little  temple  of  the  Lares  and  Penates,  upon  whose 
black  polished  altar,  the  kitchen  stove,  the  fire  was 
always  burning  and  a  sweet  incense  ascending  to 
the  nostrils  of  gods  and  men. 

In  the  room  were  two  little  girls  of  ten  and 
twelve.  The  elder  had  a  thin,  elfish  face  and 
sharp  little  eyes  that  peered  out  under  a  tangle 
of  dark  hair.  Her  features  were  regular  and 
delicate,  and  showed  possibilities  of  beauty.  The 
other  girl  had  a  typical  Irish  face,  blue  eyes  and 
brown  hair,  a  little  snub  nose,  a  saucy  mouth  and 
a  dimpled  chin.  A  handsome  little  brown-eyed 
boy  played  on  the  floor.  But  the  attention  of  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  absorbed  by  a  woman 
who  sat  in  the  rocking-chair  holding  a  baby  in  her 
arms.  There  was  something  peculiarly  sweet  and 
madonna-like  in  her  features  and  attitude.  Her 
colouring  and  the  outline  of  her  face  suggested  an 
old  Murillo  altar  piece;  but  with  all  its  sweetness, 
there  was  a  firmness  about  the  delicate  lips,  and 
a  strength  in  the  chin  that  one  does  not  find  in 
the  Spanish  master.  The  eyes,  too,  belonged 
to  a  different  school.  Large  and  lustrous,  now 
grey  and  now  blue  in  the  changing  light,  they 
seemed  to  render  the  whole  face  strangely  lumi- 
nous. 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      243 

"  I  came  to  ask  if  you  would  like  to  send  your 
children  to  Sunday  School,  Mrs.  Donovan,"  said 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  after  the  preliminaries 
of  greeting. 

"  I  don't  know.  You'll  have  to  ask  my  hus- 
band. He  was  bound  Annie  and  Sallie  should  go 
to  the  parochial  school.  I'd  as  soon  they'd  go  to 
the  public  school  myself.  I  was  brought  up  a 
Jewess,  you  see,  but  my  husband's  a  Catholic,  and 
when  he  was  married  I  told  him  he  could  send  the 
children  to  the  Catholic  School.  And  now  he's 
got  his  way,  manlike,  he  don't  seem  to  like  it,"  she 
went  on,  her  face  lighting  up  with  a  smile.  It 
was  not  that  familiar,  cynical  smile  of  the  wife, 
but  rather  the  tolerant  and  sympathetic  smile  of 
the  mother.  Here,  then,  was  the  explanation  of 
that  anomaly,  the  Irish  Jew.  An  Irishman  had 
defied  the  traditions  of  his  church  and  family,  and 
had  married  a  Jewess.  But  this  apparently  was 
not  all.  The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  conscious 
of  some  further  mystery  in  the  background  as  Mrs. 
Donovan  continued. 

"  He  says  the  girls  don't  learn  a  thing.  He'd 
be  pitching  into  the  sisters  and  priests  from  morn- 
ing to  night,  if  I'd  let  him.  I'm  afraid  he  isn't 
a  very  good  Catholic." 

The  smile  was  gone  now,  and  something  like  a 
sigh  escaped  her  lips. 

"  I  should  like  so  much  to  meet  him  and  have 
a  talk  some  day.     Do  you  think  he'd  pitch  into 


244  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

me?"  asked  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  with  a 
smile. 

"  I  wish  you  could  talk  to  him."  Mrs.  Dono- 
van had  grown  suddenly  serious.  Unsuspected 
lines  of  anxiety  appeared  in  her  smooth  brow, 
and  a  mist  seemed  to  gather  over  her  eyes,  causing 
them  to  change  as  a  mountain  pool  changes  under 
the  shadow  of  a  cloud  from  grey  green  to  a  greyer 
blue.  She  must  have  been  damming  up  a  great 
flood  of  anxiety  for  months,  and  the  sympathetic 
note  in  the  voice  of  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had 
suddenly  loosed  the  gates. 

"  I'm  so  troubled  about  him  I  don't  know  what 
to  do.  I  came  on  here  hoping  things  would  be 
better,  and  they're  worse  than  ever.  I  don't 
know  what  will  become  of  us !  I  haven't  a  friend 
in  the  city!  " 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  reached  out  in- 
stinctively and  took  her  hand. 

"  Can  I  help  any?"  she  asked.  "  Won't  you 
tell  me  about  it?" 

Her  eyes  spoke  more  eloquently  than  her  voice, 
and  Mrs.  Donovan  looked  into  them  gratefully 
a  moment.  Then  she  shook  her  head,  and 
bravely  repressed  the  tears,  and  said:  "  No,  I 
can't  tell  you.  You  must  ask  him.  He'll  be  hon- 
est with  you,  I  know.  Can't  you  wait?  He 
ought  to  be  coming  in  now." 

She  spoke  truly.  They  had  waited  but  a  few 
minutes  when  the  door  opened  and  Donovan  ap- 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      245 

peared.  Slight  and  delicate  of  form  he  was,  but  he 
had  an  individuality  that  would  have  drawn  atten- 
tion anywhere.  He  gazed  in  surprise  at  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer,  his  small  round  head  cocked  a  little 
on  one  side,  his  mouth  open,  his  parted  lips  reveal- 
ing his  uneven  and  broken  teeth  beneath  the  heavy 
black  moustache  that  drooped  to  conceal  them. 
His  eyes  were  pale  and  weak,  and  as  he  surveyed 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  they  twitched  continually 
and  shifted  from  side  to  side.  But  with  all  these 
physical  disadvantages  there  was  something  very 
attractive  about  the  little  man.  It  was  a  certain 
Celtic  vivacity,  combined  with  a  most  unusual 
straightforwardness  and  directness,  that  gave  a 
distinct  charm  to  all  he  said.  His  hands  were  as 
delicate  as  a  girl's,  and  evidently  incapable  of  hard 
labour.  Mrs.  Donovan  started  to  introduce  him, 
but  Donovan  waved  her  aside. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  I've  seen 
you  at  the  meeting  up  to  the  church.  I've  been 
in  once  or  twice  with  a  pal  o'  mine.  I  like  to 
drop  in  where  there's  good  singin'.  My  friend 
was  scared  the  roof  would  fall  in  on  him,  it  bein' 
a  Protestant  Church;  but  I'm  no  bigot,  if  I  am  a 
Catholic." 

"  I  remember  seeing  you,  and  I  heard  you,  too," 
said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  You  have  a 
good  tenor  voice.  You  must  come  regularly  and 
help  with  the  singing,  if  you  aren't  going  any- 
where else." 


246  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

"  No,"  he  said  with  sudden  fierceness,  "  the 
church  ain't  no  place  fer  me." 

He  broke  off  abruptly  and  added  apologetically, 
11  Not  that  the  church  ain't  all  right  in  its  way,  ye 
understand.  But  I've  no  use  for  priests  and 
clergymen.  We  don't  hit  it  off,  as  ye  might  say. 
I  might  come  in  now  and  then  and  hear  the  singin' 
though.  Little  Johnny  likes  singin'  too.  He 
can  sing  c  Sweet  Peace  '  as  well  as  his  dad,  can't 
ye  Johnny?  " 

And  he  picked  the  three-year-old  boy  up  in  his 
arms  and  began  crooning  a  song  a  line  at  a  time, 
while  the  little  baby  voice  lisped  it  after  him  in 
broken  childish  accent,  but  with  remarkable  ac- 
curacy of  note. 

"There,  now!"  he  said,  laughing,  and  toss- 
ing the  boy  in  his  arms.  "  What  do  you  think 
of  that?" 

"  He  sits  by  the  hour  with  that  boy  on  his  knee, 
singing  the  songs  over  and  over,"  said  his  wife. 

"  Johnny  is  going  to  make  a  singer,  surely," 
said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  "  I  wish  you 
would  send  the  children  up  to  Sunday  School,  and 
we  will  teach  them  all  the  songs." 

"  Sure,  I  believe  in  sendin'  children  to  school," 
said  Donovan.  "  But  here  in  New  York  the 
schools  ain't  no  good.  Them  two  girls  don't  learn 
a  thing.  Up  in  Boston,  where  I  was  brought  up, 
they  have  decent  schools,  and  the  children  knew 
something;  but  here  in  New  York  there  ain't  no 


A   CRIMINAL   BY    NECESSITY      247 

education  at  all.  They're  the  most  ignorant  lot 
I  ever  saw." 

"  We  should  be  glad  to  have  your  children  in 
our  schools,  but  if  you  are  really  Catholics,  we 
don't  want  you  to  leave  your  own  church,"  said 
the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer. 

"  I'm  not  much  of  a  Catholic,"  said  Donovan. 
"  'Tain't  no  fault  of  me  mother's,  neither.  If  the 
Catholic  religion  could  ever  have  percolated  me 
obstinate  hide,  me  mother  would  have  druv  it 
through  with  her  old  brogan.  When  I'd  ask  her 
to  send  me  to  the  public  school,  she'd  tell  me  the 
priest  knew  more  than  George  Washington  and 
Abraham  Lincoln  rolled  into  one.  I  must  respect 
the  priests,  like  I  did  the  holy  saints  or  Tim  Loner- 
gan,  the  ward  boss,  ye  know.  Well,  I  was  a  wild 
young  kid,  and  the  pleasures  of  high  thinkin'  and 
pious  livin',  such  as  Father  McGinnis  give  us  at  the 
parochial  school,  was  about  as  tasty  to  me  as  corn- 
starch and  water,  when  I  could  skip  off  and  get  a 
seat  in  the  Nigger  Heaven  at  the  Howard,  and 
I  played  hookey  till  one  day  me  mother  sent  the 
priest  after  me.  Well,  when  he  caught  me  and 
began  handin'  out  enough  of  this  here  virtuous 
talk  to  fill  a  phonograph,  about  me  bein'  an  idler 
and  reprobate,  I  got  red-headed.  When  I  get 
mad  I  don't  know  what  I'm  doin',  and  that  day 
I  was  crazy.  I  called  him  all  the  names, —  well, 
I  tell  you,  I  give  him  a  reg'lar  evolutionary  peddy- 
gree,  callin'  him  the  son  of  pretty  near  everything 


248  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

from  an  angleworm  down.  But  he  didn't  take  no 
stock  in  Darwin,  and  perhaps  I  did  give  his  an- 
sisterial  tree  an  extra  limb  or  two,  like  guns  and 
seacooks,  which  them  professors  don't  recognise 
as  bein'  in  the  straight  line. 

"  Anyhow,  he  caught  hold  of  me,  and  tried  to 
shut  off  the  flow  of  me  jeaneological  reminiscences. 
The  minute  he  put  his  hand  to  me,  I  went  clean 
off  me  nut  and  grabbed  up  a  stick  and  hit  him  with 
all  me  might  and  ran  fer  it.  He  come  around  to 
the  house,  and  told  me  mother  he  wasn't  angry 
but  terrible  grieved.  Grieved !  I  didn't  know 
much,  but  I  knew  that  ain't  no  fit  word  to  de- 
scribe a  man's  feelin's  when  he  gets  a  crack  on 
the  crazy  bone  with  the  edge  of  a  fence-rail,  and 
I  skipped  out.  Me  mother  gave  me  up  entirely 
from  that  day.  She  said  I  was  under  the  curse 
of  God.  I'd  insulted  a  priest,  and  no  good  would 
come  of  me.  That's  how  me  contryversy  with 
the  church  begun,  and  we  ain't  hit  it  off  no  better 
since.  The  priest  had  it  in  for  me  and  no  won- 
der, and  I'd  get  mad  and  answer  back  every  time 
they  tackled  me.  So  all  me  folks  in  Boston,  bein' 
good  Catholics,  look  on  me  with  holy  horror,  and 
call  me  a  renegade  and  a  crook.  But  they're 
none  too  good  themselves  fer  all  their  religion. 
'Twas  they  started  me  on  the  booze.  The  can 
was  always  going  in  our  house.  If  they'd  sent  me 
to  a  good  trade  school  instead  of  botherin'  me 
with  religion,  I'd  be  all  right  now." 


A   CRIMINAL   BY    NECESSITY      249 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  listened,  fasci- 
nated by  the  torrent  of  speech  that  poured  forth 
from  the  little  man,  as  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  his 
chair  accentuating  his  words  by  an  impetuous  wave 
of  his  slim  white  hand.     She  broke  in  at  this  point. 

"  What  work  do  you  find  here  in  New  York  to 
do?  "  she  asked.  He  looked  at  her  a  moment  in 
silence,  his  head  on  one  side  like  a  suspicious  fer- 
ret, his  pale  eyes  twitching  and  shifting,  his  parted 
lips  showing  the  uneven  teeth.  Then  he  seemed 
to  stiffen  suddenly,  and  with  an  almost  savage  de- 
fiance he  spoke  at  last. 

"  I'm  a  professional  gambler,  that's  what  I 
am !  "  He  flung  the  words  out  as  a  knight  might 
have  flung  his  gauntlet  in  his  enemy's  teeth.  The 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer  suppressed  a  start  of  sur- 
prise. She  realised  that  her  future  relations  with 
this  family  depended  on  the  way  in  which  she  re- 
ceived this  challenge. 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  that  kind  of  work," 
she  said  as  calmly,  as  if  he  had  stated  that  he  was 
a  professor  of  Biblical  Archeology.  "  I've  heard 
it  criticised  by  people  who  knew  little  of  it.  What 
do  you  think  of  it  yourself?     Is  it  all  right?  " 

It  was  a  confidential  appeal  which  would  have 
touched  the  honour  of  any  professional  man.  In 
spite  of  her  assumed  nonchalance  she  watched  him 
with  almost  trembling  interest.  He  gave  her  a 
puzzled  look,  and  when  he  spoke  his  voice  was 
no  longer  defiant. 


250  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

"  Sometimes  it's  honest,  and  some  men  play  on 
the  level."  He  paused  a  moment  and  then  added 
sullenly:  "But  I  don't.  I'm  a  professional 
card  cheat." 

Again  he  looked  at  her,  as  if  he  expected  an 
outburst;  but  finding  only  a  look  of  sympathetic 
interest,  he  went  on: 

"  I  know  every  trick  in  the  trade.  I  can  deal 
four  aces  to  myself  and  my  partners  every  time. 
I  always  play  on  the  square  with  my  friends,  and 
they  know  that.  Jerry  would  rather  cut  off  his 
hand  than  do  them  dirty,  but  when  any  of  these 
fool  loafers  come  in  trying  to  skin  everybody, 
why,  we  just  get  up  a  little  game,  and  I  can  carry 
off  the  boodle.  I  play  the  piano  down  to 
O'Rourke's  place,  you  see,  and  I  pick  up  a  game 
or  two  every  evening." 

"  O'Rourke's?  "  said  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer 
interrogatively. 

"  Yes,  he's  got  a  pool  room  back  of  his  saloon 
in  Catherine  Street,  and  I  play  the  piano  and  jolly 
the  boys  a  bit  every  evening." 

"Do  you  like  it?  Do  you  want  to  keep  on 
making  money  that  way?  " 

Mrs.  Donovan  let  the  sewing  she  had  taken  up 
drop  from  her  hands,  and  looked  over  at  her  hus- 
band, while  the  anxious  lines  gathered  again  on 
her  brow. 

"  Like  it?  No !  "  he  cried.  "  I'm  ashamed  of 
myself.     I  want  to  be  on  the  level."     He  jumped 


A    CRIMINAL   BY    NECESSITY      251 

to  his  feet  and  began  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  with  the  restlessness  of  a  caged  fox. 

"  What  can  I  do  with  a  wife  and  four  children? 
I'm  not  strong  enough  for  heavy  work,  and  my 
eyes  are  too  bad  to  do  writing.  I  can't  live  hon- 
est if  I  try.     It's  no  use !  " 

There  was  something  in  the  accents  of  those 
words,  "  It's  no  use,"  that  told  of  hard  effort  and 
cruel  disappointment.  They  were  not  the  usual 
flippant  excuse  of  the  criminal  who  "  could  not 
help  it."  Yet  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  felt  them 
to  be  absurd.  To  state  that  there  is  no  way  in 
which  a  man  possessed  of  all  his  limbs  and  senses 
can  keep  his  family  from  starvation,  save  by  card- 
cheating,  seemed  ridiculous,  and  she  challenged  the 
remark  at  once. 

"  You  say  it's  no  use  trying  to  be  honest,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  see  you  believe  it.  But  I  don't,"  she 
went  on  with  a  smile,  "  and  I  think  down  at  the 
bottom  you  know  that,  when  a  man  follows  the 
right  as  he  sees  it,  no  matter  what  it  costs,  God 
will  take  care  of  that  man.  Why  don't  you  try 
it?  Certainly  you  can't  be  much  worse  off  than 
you  are  now,  for  I  know  you  are  unhappy.  No 
man  is  so  miserable  as  one  who  is  doing  every  day 
what  he  feels  is  wrong.  And  it  will  only  grow 
harder.  How  will  it  be  when  that  little  boy  grows 
up?  What  will  he  think  of  his  father?  Oh,  Mr. 
Donovan,  do  give  it  up,  and  if  there  is  anything 
I  can  do  to  help  you,  I'll  do  it." 


252  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

While  she  had  been  leading  him  on  to  speak  of 
himself,  her  face  had  been  to  him  as  a  dark  house- 
front,  with  curtained  windows  and  unknown  in- 
terior, from  which  came  only  a  voice.  Now 
suddenly  every  window  blazed  with  light.  Even 
his  dull  twitching  eye  saw  something  of  the  char- 
acter within  as  the  shutters  opened.  He  looked 
at  her  a  few  moments  in  vague  surprise.  His 
wife  watched  his  face  intently,  clasping  and  un- 
clasping her  tense  fingers  and  winking  away  the 
tears  that  one  by  one  clouded  her  clear  grey  eyes. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  last.  "  I'll  try  it.  I  be- 
lieve in  God,  ye  understand,  and  I  know  what's 
right.  I  was  brought  up  in  Boston,  and  I'm  an 
honest  man  at  heart.  It'll  make  my  wife  happy 
if  I  cut  out  the  cards, —  eh,  Meg?"  And  he 
reached  over  and  patted  his  wife's  cheek.  "  She's 
a  good  wife  if  there  ever  was  one,"  he  added. 

Her  cheeks  were  still  wet,  but  she  looked  up  at 
the  strange  little  man  with  a  tender  smile,  that 
seemed  full  of  sacred  utterances,  and  she  touched 
his  hand  shyly. 

"  Oh,  Jerry!  I'm  so  glad!"  she  said  softly, 
11  and  I'll  help  too." 

"  I'll  bet  you,  you  will,"  he  said  affectionately 
throwing  his  arm  around  her.  "  She's  a  good 
woman,  and  she's  always  stuck  by  me  even  when 
I  treated  her  mean.  Her  own  folks  cut  her  off 
because  she  stood  up  for  me." 

He  looked  at  her  no  longer  ashamed  and  de- 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      253 

spairing,  but  filled  with  that  inflating  pride  which 
is  the  last  support  of  many  a  man  despised  by  the 
world,  who  knows  there  is  one  woman  still  to 
whom  he  is  of  supreme  importance,  and  who  will 
give  up  the  whole  world  for  his  sake.-  And  with 
a  proud  laugh  he  said:  "You'll  never  go  back 
on  your  old  Jerry,  will  you?" 


II 

It  was  some  months  later  that  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  was  running  up  the  stairway  to  Donovan's 
rooms  with  hurried  and  anxious  steps.  Donovan 
had  received  a  summons  to  appear  in  court  that 
day,  and  had  promised  to  be  at  the  church  early 
in  the  morning  to  make  arrangements  for  the 
trial,  but  he  had  not  appeared.  The  little  gam- 
bler had  certainly  been  put  to  a  severe  test.  He 
had  given  up  his  place  in  the  poolroom  and  sought 
for  work.  There  were  thousands  unemployed 
that  winter,  and  he  would  have  failed  but  for  a 
succession  of  great  snowstorms  that  clogged  the 
thoroughfares  and  compelled  the  street-cleaning 
department  to  call  for  hundreds  of  extra  men. 
Donovan  volunteered,  and  night  after  night  took 
his  stand  in  the  great  square  on  East  Broadway, 
his  slight  little  figure  almost  indistinguishable  in 
the  long  line  of  hulking  Irishmen  and  stout  Ger- 
mans. By  the  light  of  the  flaring  torches  he 
struggled  with  a  huge  snow  shovel,  trying  to  lift 
load  after  load  of  wet,  soggy  snow  into  the  carts 
that  came  along  in  unending  lines.  He  was  up  to 
his  knees  in  slush,  and  soaked  through  with  the 
melting  snow  which  ran  up  his  sleeves  and  down 
his  back.  Every  muscle  ached  with  the  unaccus- 
tomed toil,  and  many  times  he  sank  down  exhausted 

254 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      255 

on  the  wet  snow  bank.  The  stronger  men,  used 
to  ditch-digging  and  hard  labour,  looked  at  him 
in  pity. 

11  You  ain't  fit  for  this  job,  me  boy.  You'd 
best  chuck  it.  Stop  your  diggin',  or  they'll  be 
diggin'  you  a  hole  six  feet  by  two  in  a  day  or  so." 

But  Donovan  thought  of  the  hungry  mouths  at 
home,  and  picked  up  his  shovel. 

"  Thanks,  but  I'll  stick  to  me  job.  There's  a 
way  to  make  both  ends  meet  without  workin',  but 
its  debilitatin'  to  the  moral  backbone,  as  the  snake 
said,  when  he  began  to  swallow  his  tail,"  he  said 
cheerily,  splashing  and  staggering  through  the 
slush  with  his  heavily  loaded  shovel. 

"  Say,  you  can't  heave  that  into  the  cart.  Get 
along!  You're  in  the  way,"  said  another  big 
fellow. 

"  I'm  lookin'  fer  a  job  to  lecture  on  Woman's 
Rights  and  Men's  Wrongs  at  a  hundred  per,  but 
till  I  land  it,  I'm  goin'  to  stick  to  me  snow  shovel, 
you  can  bet !  "  he  answered. 

So  he  held  his  own  through  the  long  hours  of 
night,  and  at  last  in  the  icy  grey  dawn  he  stag- 
gered home,  his  soaked  garments  frozen  stiff, 
every  muscle  aching  and  his  whole  body  exhausted. 
So  it  went  on  night  after  night.  Hiding  his  grow- 
ing weakness  under  a  mask  of  absurd  banter,  he 
drove  his  frail,  exhausted  body  back  to  the  toil, 
and  kept  it  somehow  at  work  by  sheer  force  of 
will,  until  one  day  he  found  himself  unable  to  rise 


256  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

from  bed,  his  head  throbbing  and  fever  burning  in 
every  vein. 

"  I  ain't  fakin',  this  ain't  no  attack  o'  neuro- 
sterics,"  he  said  to  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  when 
she  called,  "  but  you  see  it  ain't  no  use.  I  can't 
keep  up  with  a  row  of  donkey  engines  like  them 
fellers.  If  snow  shovels  was  worked  by  the  jaw, 
I'd  have  them  big  Dutchies  on  the  run  to  keep  up 
with  me,  though." 

Mrs.  Donovan  took  hold  during  his  sickness, 
and  did  her  utmost  to  support  the  family.  In  the 
early  mornings  and  evenings  she  scrubbed  out  the 
dirty  floors  of  a  big  office  building,  till  her  hands 
were  blistered  and  chapped  with  the  hard  toil  and 
icy  water.  Her  steps  were  slow  as  she  made  her 
way  down  town  in  the  freezing  grey  dawn,  for  in 
a  few  weeks  her  little  baby  would  be  born,  and 
many  a  time  as  she  knelt  on  the  cold  marble  floors, 
scrubbing  with  might  and  main,  she  thought  she 
would  faint  from  the  terrible  pangs  of  pain  that 
shot  through  her.  But  she  always  returned  to  her 
husband,  with  some  joke  about  her  growing  ac- 
quaintance with  the  plutocrats  and  her  success  as 
a  practical  muckraker  in  Wall  Street,  and  hid  her 
bleeding  hands  from  his  sight.  She  worked  up  to 
within  a  day  or  two  of  the  child's  birth,  and  then 
she  too  gave  out,  and  lay  helpless  in  her  bed. 
They  could  not  afford  a  doctor,  and  were  too  proud 
to  be  charity  patients.  They  did  not  tell  the  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer  of  their  needs,  but  called  in  a  Jew- 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      257 

ish  midwife  who  brought  Mrs.  Donovan  safely 
through  the  ordeal. 

When  he  recovered,  Donovan  could  find  no 
work,  and  Mrs.  Donovan  was  too  weak  to  take  up 
her  scrubbing.  It  is  needless  to  dwell  on  those 
weeks  of  anxiety,  when  the  cries  of  their  hungry 
children  made  them  nearly  desperate.  Many  a 
basket  did  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  send  in  to 
keep  the  wolf  from  the  door.  But  there  was  that 
ever  present  bugbear,  more  persistent  and  vora- 
cious in  modern  cities  than  the  traditional  wolf, — 
the  rent.  Donovan  counted  every  spare  penny, 
and  found  himself  two  months  behind.  They  had 
agreed  to  give  the  midwife  three  dollars,  and 
when  they  failed  to  pay  after  repeated  dunning, 
she  brought  suit  for  ten  dollars.  This  was  the 
last  straw,  and  Donovan,  who  had  met  his  dis- 
asters with  so  cheery  a  fund  of  banter,  sank  be- 
neath it. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  had  asked  the  min- 
ister to  go  with  Donovan  to  the  court  and  speak 
for  him,  but  Donovan  had  not  appeared  at  the 
church,  and  it  was  with  a  fear  of  some  impending 
disaster  that  she  hurried  up  the  narrow  stair  of 
the  tenement.  A  feeble  voice  called  "  Come  in," 
and  she  threw  open  the  door  and  could  not  restrain 
a  cry  of  amazement  and  horror.  The  pretty  little 
room  was  a  chaos  of  confusion  and  dirt.  The 
chairs  were  overturned,  broken  crockery  and 
smashed  flower  pots  lay  on  the  floor,  with  the 


258  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

earth  strewn  everywhere.  Huddled  in  a  chair,  a 
pitiful  figure,  sat  Donovan,  his  moustache  droop- 
ing, his  lips  parted  in  a  forlorn  snarl,  which  bared 
his  blackened  uneven  teeth.  He  looked  like  some 
hunted  animal,  harassed  by  dogs  and  at  bay.  His 
shifty  eyes  twitched  violently,  and  he  looked  up 
in  a  dazed  way,  blinking  at  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer.  On  the  bed  in  the  room  beyond  lay  Mrs. 
Donovan,  sobbing. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Donovan !  "  she  cried.  "  What  has 
happened!  " 

He  said  nothing,  but  continued  to  look  at  her 
with  dazed,  twitching  eyes.  She  went  into  the 
bedroom,  and  sat  down  by  the  sick  woman,  who 
lay  weeping  with  the  tiny  red-faced  morsel  of  flesh 
beside  her. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  took  her  hand  gently, 
and  said:  "  How  can  I  help  you?  Don't  be 
afraid  to  tell  me  all  about  it." 

Brokenly  she  told  what  had  happened.  It 
would  have  seemed  a  work  of  witchcraft  were  it 
not  so  common.  The  marvel  was  not  that  her 
husband's  courage  should  have  broken  at  last 
under  the  steady  hammering  of  adverse  fate. 
The  strange  thing  was  that  the  personality  of  the 
man  with  his  frankness  and  tenderness  and  hu- 
mour, should  have  totally  disappeared  from  its 
habitation  and  vanished  into  space,  at  the  touch 
upon  his  brain  of  the  fiery  fumes  of  the  stimulant 
to  which  he  had  turned  in  his  despair;  while  in  its 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      259 

place,  a  malicious  demon,  as  false  as  it  was  cruel, 
had  usurped  his  body,  heaped  curses  and  blows  on 
the  woman  he  loved  best,  and  sought  to  shatter  to 
pieces  the  pretty  little  home  he  had  worked  so 
hard  to  maintain.  We  may  never  know  enough 
of  personality  to  fathom  this  mystery,  and  yet  we 
are  willing  to  treat  it  as  a  vulgar  commonplace. 
Mrs.  Donovan  said  that  for  many  years  these 
turns  had  come  periodically.  Once  in  so  often  the 
madness  seized  him,  and  nothing  could  be  done 
till  it  was  over.  She  had  been  told  it  was  hopeless 
to  cure  him,  but  he  had  not  touched  alcohol  since 
giving  his  word  to  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  until 
now.  There  was  little  time  to  lose.  The  Lady 
of  Good  Cheer  did  what  she  could  to  restore  him 
to  a  right  mind,  and  in  some  measure  succeeded. 
It  was,  however,  but  a  wretched,  bedraggled  speci- 
men of  humanity  that  accompanied  the  minister  to 
the  court  some  time  later. 

The  Civil  Court  is  a  shade  more  respectable  and 
agreeable  than  the  Police  Court.  It  seems  little 
enough  like  America,  for  it  is  always  crowded  with 
Russian  Jews,  who  with  their  endless  petty  suits 
are  always  working  the  ropes  of  American  justice 
with  the  excited  eagerness  of  children  who  have 
just  moved  into  a  house  with  an  elevator,  and  who 
like  to  see  the  wheels  go  round.  It  was  filled  now 
with  a  vociferous  group,  who  were  clamouring 
over  some  suit  as  to  their  synagogue  taxes,  each 
side  with  fifteen  or  twenty  witnesses  from  whom 


26o  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

the  very  smooth  young  lawyers  were  trying  to  ex- 
tract some  coherent  statement,  while  the  judge  sat 
immovable  behind  the  barriers  on  his  varnished 
throne,  scribbling  notes  and  occasionally  casting  a 
bored  glance  at  the  contestants  over  his  glasses. 
As  soon  as  the  last  lawyer  finished  his  eloquent 
peroration,  the  judge  addressed  a  few  remarks  to 
a  spot  on  the  ceiling  in  the  polite  tone  of  a  man 
who  is  giving  his  wife  the  same  advice  for  the 
fiftieth  time,  and  in  a  second  the  officers  were  bun- 
dling the  excited  litigants  out  of  the  court  in  a  mad 
whirl  of  gabbling  gesticulation. 

In  another  second  the  case  of  Rebecca  Goldstein 
vs.  Jerry  Donovan  had  been  called.  The  young 
Jew  who  represented  the  midwife,  after  exhibiting 
some  reams  of  elegant  phraseology  recently  ac- 
quired at  the  City  College,  called  on  half  a  score 
of  excited  Hebrew  dames  in  shawl  and  scheitel  to 
substantiate  his  statements.  .  The  judge  called 
Donovan,  and  as  he  stood  up  bedraggled  and 
shaking,  his  Honour  eyed  him  over  the  top  of  his 
glasses  with  the  misanthropic  glance  of  one  con- 
firmed in  his  opinion  that  all  flesh  is  something 
even  less  intelligent  than  grass. 

"  Anything  to  say  for  yourself?"  he  enquired. 

Donovan  stood  with  twitching  eyes,  speechless 
for  once.  In  his  part  of  the  worthy  and  injured 
father  of  a  family,  he  appealed  to  the  risibilities  of 
the  spectators  rather  than  to  their  sympathies. 
The  minister  was  embarrassed.     He  could  answer 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      261 

the  lawyer's  arguments  easily,  but  Donovan  him- 
self was  an  argument  before  which  he  was  helpless. 
The  more  earnestly  he  spoke,  the  more  patent 
grew  the  grin  with  which  the  crowd  surveyed  the 
bewildered  defendant.  He  spoke  for  the  wife, 
told  of  the  midwife's  inadequate  attentions,  and 
ended  with  as  pathetic  an  appeal  as  he  could  make. 

"  After  she  had  agreed  on  three  dollars,"  he 
said,  "  she  has  the  face  to  ask  of  this  poor  woman, 
who  has  toiled  till  she  is  sick  to  pay  her  bills,  the 
sum  of  ten  dollars,  which  is  double  the  customary 
amount,  as  you  know." 

The  judge,  who  had  apparently  been  absorbed 
in  philosophic  contemplation,  suddenly  came  to  life. 
He  dropped  his  pencil  and  looked  the  minister  full 
in  the  face  with  a  withering  glance  of  offended 
dignity. 

"  As  I  know!  "  he  burst  out  with  a  sudden  ex- 
plosion of  wrath,  that  echoed  through  the  court 
room  till  even  the  loafers  asleep  by  the  door 
looked  up, — "  I'm  not  married!  How  on  earth 
should  I  know  the  customary  prices  of  midwives?  " 

The  clerk  smiled  voluminously,  the  lawyers 
laughed,  the  officers  burst  into  a  roar  which  the 
loafers  echoed  vociferously.  The  minister  started 
to  turn  away  in  disgust,  thinking  the  day  lost,  but 
the  judge  was  at  last  in  better  humour.  He 
pounded  for  order,  and  his  face  relaxed  into  a  half 
smile. 

"  Five  dollars  and  costs,"  he  said. 


262  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

This  was  far  better  than  the  minister  had 
feared.  He  paid  the  bill  and  departed  with 
Donovan  tagging  along,  silent  and  dejected  like  a 
whipped  dog. 

It  is  needless  to  recapitulate  the  trying  days  that 
followed  for  the  Lady  of  Good  Cheer,  till  Dono- 
van was  himself  again.  Wherever  it  came  from, 
the  spirit  that  possessed  him  was  no  more  like 
Donovan  than  a  jelly  fish  is  like  a  sea  urchin.  In- 
stead of  the  straightforward,  pugnacious  honesty 
which  was  his  chief  characteristic,  she  was  met  by 
shifty  deception  and  even  direct  lies  and  fits  of  furi- 
ous temper  alternated  with  deep  dejection.  She 
was  sure,  however,  that  the  old  Donovan  was 
still  somewhere  in  the  universe  and  made  her 
preparations  with  a  sure  faith  in  his  return.  By 
telling  his  story  to  a  kindly  employer,  she  secured 
a  position  for  him  as  porter  in  a  large  dry-goods 
store,  and  when  the  real  Donovan  returned  once 
more,  he  entered  upon  his  new  job  with  enthusiasm. 


Ill 

"  Can't  you  find  some  clothes  up  to  the  church 
to  fit  out  this  fellow  here?  "  said  Donovan  to  the 
Lady  of  Good  Cheer.  She  had  dropped  into  his 
house  at  supper  time,  and  to  her  amazement  found 
a  stranger,  an  exceedingly  ragged  young  man, 
seated  at  the  table  between  Mrs.  Donovan  and 
Annie.  There  was  nothing  left  of  his  boots  but 
a  few  pieces  of  leather  and  his  ragged,  dirty  coat 
was  buttoned  to  the  throat  to  conceal  the  lack  of 
a  shirt.  He  was  over  six  feet  tall  and  his  trou- 
sers, even  at  their  best,  were  totally  inadequate  to 
cover  his  spacious  outlines.  They  came  but  little 
below  the  knee,  and  his  strenuous  but  futile  efforts 
to  increase  their  circumference  in  the  equatorial 
zone  had  resulted  only  in  gaping  disaster.  His 
face  was  covered  with  stubble,  and  his  brow  and 
neck  with  a  long  tangle  of  black  hair,  but  beneath 
this  guise  it  was  possible  to  discern  a  frank  manly 
face. 

"  I  stopped  in  to  see  the  boys  at  O'Rourke's," 
went  on  Donovan,  "  and  I  found  him  sittin'  in  the 
back  room.  It  was  rainin',  and  he'd  come  in  to 
get  dry.  He  hadn't  a  cent  to  buy  drink,  and  he 
ain't  a  drinkin'  man,  anyway.  He  hadn't  had  a 
bite  to  eat  all  day,  and  hadn't  located  no  place 
where  he  could  sleep, —  not  so  much  as  an  old  bar- 

263 


264  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

rel.  I  see  he  was  a  decent  young  feller,  and  I 
says:  '  Come  along,  Tom,  me  boy;  come  up  to 
my  house,  and  I'll  give  you  a  bite  to  eat  and  a 
place  to  sleep  till  ye  land  a  job.  I  know  what  hard 
luck  is  meself.'  He's  got  a  fine  bass  voice,  and 
if  you'll  fit  him  out,  I'll  bring  him  up  to  the  Men's 
Club  to  sing  in  the  quartette." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  somewhat  non- 
plussed by  this  announcement.  Donovan  was 
hardly  in  a  position  to  be  supplying  stray  men  with 
board  and  lodging.  He  had  made  a  desperate 
effort  to  fill  efficiently  the  position  she  had  found 
for  him,  but  in  an  institution  which  affords  such 
diversities  of  employment  as  the  modern  depart- 
ment store,  there  seemed  to  be  no  hole  of  oppor- 
tunity adjusted  to  fit  a  peg  of  such  eccentric  shape. 
He  could  not  handle  heavy  cases,  and  they  set  him 
to  clean  windows;  but  when  he  was  once  balanced 
in  the  air  outside  a  fifth  story  window,  his  brains 
were  reduced  to  such  a  vertiginous  state  that  he 
had  to  be  pulled  in.  Inability  to  perform  delicate 
gymnastics  on  a  narrow  ledge  sixty  feet  above  a 
stone  pavement  is  not  necessarily  proof  of  moral 
obliquity  or  even  of  industrial  incapacity,  and 
Donovan  might  have  escaped  a  discharge,  but  for 
the  fact  that  he  was  handicapped  still  farther  by 
an  inherent  inability  to  restrain  unuttered  any 
thought  generated  by  his  highly  effervescent  brain 
cells.  Dante  applied  the  heaviest  kind  of  punish- 
ment to  the  most  consummate  hypocrite,  but  in 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      265 

common  experience  the  man  of  perfect  frankness 
is  the  one  who  receives  it.  It  chanced  that  one  of 
the  floor-walkers,  who  belonged  to  the  church, 
failed  to  recognise  Donovan,  who  supposed  that 
this  was  an  intentional  slight  put  upon  him  because 
of  his  prior  occupation,  and  it  roused  his  sensitive 
soul  to  such  a  pitch  of  indignant  fury  that  when 
he  was  summoned  and  reprimanded  for  his  delin- 
quency in  reference  to  the  windows,  he  burst  forth 
into  a  truly  Demosthenic  denunciation  of  depart- 
ment stores  and  all  their  retainers;  and  the  man- 
agers, who  were  not  interested  in  vivid  language 
and  highly  coloured  metaphors,  promptly  dis- 
charged him.  During  the  period  of  desperate 
struggle  that  followed,  he  regretted  his  words,  of 
course,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  managers 
should  have  understood  that  it  was  "  just  Jerry 
Donovan  shootin'  off  his  mouth,  and  no  harm 
meant."  At  last,  by  his  own  effort,  he  secured  a 
place  in  a  stable  in  Cherry  Street, —  not  an  artistic, 
aseptic,  highly  polished  stable  with  brass  mount- 
ings and  hand-embroidered  horse-blankets,  but  a 
dark,  noisome  place,  Augean  in  its  accumulation 
of  dirt  and  debris,  and  located  in  an  ancient  build- 
ing which  had  long  lost  its  beauty  and  moral  char- 
acter and  which  appeared  thoroughly  decrepit  and 
intoxicated. 

The  dark  jaws  of  this  dank,  disreputable  edifice 
swallowed  up  Jerry  every  day  from  six  A.  M.  until 
nine  p.  m.,  so  that  he  saw  but  little  of  the  sun. 


266  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

He  toiled  away  in  the  dim  light  in  air  that  was 
dense  with  strong  odours.  The  work,  though  not 
unusually  hard,  was  a  Herculean  task  for  Dono- 
van's weak  muscles,  and  when  it  was  over  he 
might  be  found  sitting  on  a  heap  of  straw  and 
manure  in  the  corner,  singing  some  new  street  song 
to  a  crowd  of  grinning  stablemen.  He  kept  his 
little  rt  Salon  "  of  the  dung  heap  going,  even  when, 
after  some  months  of  confinement  in  such  an  at- 
mosphere, his  health  began  to  fail.  His  good 
cheer  was  not  based  on  the  amount  of  his  wages, 
which  seemed  far  from  munificent  to  one  accus- 
tomed to  feel  his  pockets  stuffed  with  carelessly 
crushed,  crinkly  bills.  It  barely  paid  the  rent  and 
fed  the  five  little  mouths.  And  lo !  here  was  an- 
other capacious  mouth  which  he  proposed  to  feed 
from  the  same  thinly  flowing  Pactolean  stream. 
The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  rebelled  at  the  folly  and 
sin  of  it,  but  her  remonstrance  died  on  her  lips  at 
his  look  of  amazement. 

"  Why,  ain't  that  what  you  was  talkin'  about  up 
to  the  church?  "  he  asked;  "  treatin'  poor  folks  in 
trouble  as  if  they  was  your  brothers,  and  takin' 
'em  in,  an*  trustin'  the  Lord  to  see  ye  through, 
when  you're  doin'  the  right  thing  by  a  poor  cuss 
that's  on  his  uppers?  I  ain't  much  of  a  Christian, 
but  I  want  to  do  a  bit  here  and  there  to  help  along, 
ye  understand." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  fairly  beaten, 
and  retired  with  a  quizzical  smile  at  herself  for 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      267 

actually  having  remonstrated  with  an  ex-gambler 
for  being  too  good  a  Christian.  The  immediate 
result  was  that  Harkins,  his  protege,  received  a 
suit  a  little  more  commensurate  with  his  superficial 
area,  and  was  escorted  by  Donovan  to  the  Men's 
Club,  where  he  sang,  "  Rocked  in  the  Cradle  of 
the  Deep,"  in  a  basso  profundo  that  brought  down 
the  house. 

The  Men's  Club  was  nominally  a  Bible  Class, 
but  there  were  few  things  in  Heaven  and  earth 
that  were  not  freely  discussed  in  the  course  of  the 
evening.  On  this  night  some  casual  allusion  was 
made  to  the  dubious  political  integrity  of  a  certain 
henchman  of  Tammany  Hall.  Donovan  was  on 
his  feet  in  an  instant,  his  head  on  one  side,  as  he 
looked  at  his  opponent  out  of  his  good  eye,  like  a 
little  bantam  about  to  strike.  "  You're  always 
givin'  Tammany  Hall  the  call  down,"  he  said, 
"  but  I  want  ye  to  understand  there  ain't  a  squarer 
man  in  New  York  City  than  Tom  Hennessy,  the 
boss  of  this  here  district.  Many's  the  hour  I've 
spent  in  his  poolroom,  and  when  the  boys'd  get 
talkin'  religion,  an'  I'd  put  in  me  oar  and  stick  up 
fer  this  church,  they'd  all  pitch  on  me  and  call  me 
a  turncoat  and  a  two  faced  hypocrite  and  a  black 
Protestant,  and  tell  me  to  dig  out  or  I'd  get  me 
face  smashed.  An'  then  Tom  would  speak  up  to 
say,  *  Here,  you  boys,  let  him  alone !  He's  got 
as  good  a  right  to  bark  fer  his  religion  as  you 
have.'     An'  he  says  to  me,  *  Jerry,  me  boy,  come 


268  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

in  whenever  you  want.  Don't  mind  them  loony 
geezers.  You're  always  welcome  in  my  saloon. 
You're  one  o'  these  fellers  that  can't  chew  yer 
thoughts  in  quiet,  and  swallow  down  yer  feelin's. 
Ye've  got  to  spit  'em  all  over  town,  and  I  like  ye 
fer  it.  Ye  might  have  kep'  yer  mouth  shet  about 
your  religion  in  a  gang  like  that,  but  ye  was  bound 
ter  stick  up  fer  yer  church,  if  they  kicked  yer  pants 
off.'  An'  talk  about  helpin'  the  poor!  There 
ain't  a  poor  man  in  this  ward  'as  died  without  a 
cent  to  buy  crepe  rosettes  fer  his  coffin,  but  Tom 
has  give  him  a  decent  send  off,  and  fixed  him  up 
as  pretty  a  little  funeral  as  if  he'd  been  one  of  the 
family.  An'  there  ain't  a  poor  soul  that's  been 
put  out  of  house  and  home  in  this  ward  these  ten 
years,  but  Tom  has  put  his  hand  in  his  pants  and 
paid  the  rent,  if  they  was  decent  deservin'  folks 
and  voted  the  straight  ticket.  Yes,  sir,  if  you're 
lookin'  fer  real  Christian  gentlemen,  Tom  Hen- 
nessy  and  the  minister's  the  two  finest  men  in  the 
world." 

At  this  there  was  an  ominous  groan,  and  the 
Republican  district  leader  slouched  out  of  his  chair 
to  his  full  height  of  six  feet-three,  and  surveying 
the  little  bantam  over  his  broken  nose,  shook  his 
huge  fist  and  shouted:  "  D'ye  want  ter  get  yer 
neck  broke?  If  ye  don't  close  yer  face,  there'll 
be  somethin'  comin'  your  way  right  now,  see? 
The  minister  and  Tom  Hennessy !     Did  ever  any 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      269 

one  hear  the  like?  "  He  turned  to  the  chairman, 
and  continued  more  calmly:  "I  don't  stand  fer 
all  this  goo-goo  talk  about  the  corruption  of  Tam- 
many. YeVe  got  ter  divvy  the  boodle,  or  you'd 
have  no  party.  These  here  dude  reformers  is 
wreckin'  the  Republican  Party.  When  a  man  has 
sat  up  mornin'  and  night,  and  worked  like  a  horse, 
pounding  the  heads  o'  these  fool  Sheenies  and 
Dagoes  to  make  'em  vote  the  straight  ticket, 
herdin'  'em  to  the  primaries  and  puttin'  the  fear 
o'  Gawd  in  'em  on  Election  Day  so  they  won't  vote 
both  tickets,  then,  when  he's  turned  out  a  solid 
Republican  vote  of  two  hundred  in  a  district  where 
there  ain't  no  Republicans  at  all  ter  speak  of,  he 
goes  round  thinkin'  they'll  do  the  square  thing  by 
him,  and  they  politely  shows  him  the  door,  tellin' 
him  he  done  it  all  fer  the  good  o'  the  city.  Do 
they  suppose  a  poor  man  with  a  family  o'  kids  ter 
feed  is  goin'  ter  give  up  his  time  and  strength, 
workin'  noon  and  night  to  hustle  up  a  big  vote, 
when  all  he  gets  fer  it  is  a  hand  out  o'  pious  talk 
on  his  self-sacrifkin'  toil?  Tom  Rot!  Why  in 
the  name  of  mud  should  a  man  work  like  a  nigger 
for  his  party,  if  they  give  all  the  soft  jobs  to  the 
Democrats,  and  tell  him  to  chase  himself  fer  the 
glory  of  America?  Nixy!  The  corruption  o' 
Tammany's  all  very  well  fer  a  write  up  in  them 
dude  papers,  but  Tom  Hennessy's  a  good  practical 
politician,  and  when  a  man  votes  fer  him,  he  sees 


270  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

him  through.  He's  all  right  that  away,  I'll  allow, 
but  when  you  talk  about  Tom  Hennessy  and  the 
minister,  ye  make  me  sick!  " 

The  presiding  officer  averted  a  personal  conflict 
by  suggesting  that  if  the  men  down  town  had  as 
much  wealth  and  leisure  as  those  up  town,  they 
might  then  be  willing  to  work  disinterestedly  for 
the  good  of  the  city. 

This  aroused  Donovan  again,  and  he  sprang  to 
his  feet.  "  That's  the  trouble  with  this  country!  " 
he  shouted.  "  It's  an  outrage  a  few  men  in  Wall 
Street  should  have  all  the  money  in  the  land,  when 
there  are  thousands  of  poor  honest  working  folks, 
that  can't  get  enough  to  keep  their  children  from 
starving,  no  matter  how  hard  they  try!  It's  all 
wrong!  It  ain't  Christian!  It  ain't  justice!  All 
them  millions  they've  squeezed  out  of  the  poor 
ought  to  be  divided  up !  " 

This  speech  awakened  an  enthusiastic  response 
from  the  assembled  crowd.  There  were  some 
seventy  men  present.  For  all  of  them  life  had 
been  a  hard  struggle.  There  had  been  a  period, 
when  they  had  given  up  all  effort  to  maintain  re- 
spectability. Whenever  they  had  had  money,  they 
had  sought  to  drown  the  despair  and  wretchedness 
of  their  lives  in  intoxication.  Since  joining  the 
club,  however,  they  had  all  renounced  alcohol,  but 
their  families  still  dreaded  the  holidays  that  came 
after  pay  day  had  filled  their  pockets. 

The  presiding  officer  looked  over  their  faces 


A    CRIMINAL   BY    NECESSITY      271 

and  said :  "  Now  honestly,  suppose  it  was  all  di- 
vided, and  you  each  got  a  thousand  dollars  what 
would  happen?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  then  one  of  them 
who  had  been  long  out  of  work,  and  whose  family 
had  suffered  cruelly  from  hunger,  said:  "  We'd 
all  be  dead  or  in  jail  inside  a  week!  " 

Donovan's  faith  in  Harkins,  his  protege,  was 
not  unrewarded.  After  living  some  months  as 
Donovan's  guest,  he  at  last  secured  a  good  position 
and  moved  away.  When  he  called  a  year  later, 
he  found  his  benefactor  in  disastrous  circumstances. 
A  new  babe  had  just  been  born,  and  Donovan, 
sick  with  the  hard  labour  in  the  stables  and  des- 
perately anxious,  had  again  broken  out  in  one  of 
his  old  time  sprees.  He  lost  his  job,  and  Mrs. 
Donovan  was  sick  and  despondent.  Harkins, 
quite  overcome  at  the  sight  of  so  much  misery, 
excused  himself  and  quickly  withdrew.  It  took 
all  the  patience  and  genius  of  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  to  get  Donovan  straightened  out  again. 
She  made  up  her  mind  that  severe  and  radical 
measures  were  necessary  to  save  him  from  himself, 
and  one  day  he  came  up  to  the  church  and  signed 
with  great  solemnity  a  formal  lettre  de  cachet, 
authorising  the  minister  or  the  Lady  of  Good 
Cheer  to  lock  him  up  at  once  in  jail  at  the  first 
preliminary  sign  that  he  was  drinking.  It  was  a 
most  effective  pledge.  From  that  day  he  never 
drank  again.     When  he  felt  sure  of  himself,  he 


a;a  BESIDE  THE   BOWERY, 

joined  the  Church,  whieh  lie  had  alwayi  refused  to 

dOf  Tor  fear  he  might  bring  disgrace  upon  an  in- 
stitution he  respected,  lie  got  hack  his  place  at 
the  itablej  and  as  his  wile  was  s  genius  at  house- 
keeping  and  had  even  won  a  prize  for  making  a 
dollar  go  further  in  purchasing  food  than  any 
woman  in  the  ward,  he  managed  to  get  along  with 
his  increased   family.    The   family  income  was 

eked    out     by    Mrs.     Donovan's    Scrubbing    in    the 

office  buildings,  and  by  the  return  of  his  oldest  son, 

who   had  spent    some   ye;irs  in   the    Reform   School 

for  stealingi  and  who  now  found  work,  it  w;is 
strange  how  the  family  history  was  written  in  the 
faces  of  the  children.  This  hoy,  born  during  the 
period  of  their  greatest  disgrace  and  disaster,  had 
a  misshapen  imp  like  face,  fascinatingly  like  that 

of  a  monkey.  I  lis  no\r  w.r,  hi idgelesS,  and  his 
mouth  wide,  with  an  ever  present  grin.  The 
three   youngest    juris,   horn   in   the  d;iys   when   hope 

had  revived,  were  unusually  beautiful  children  and 

had  the  mother's  regular  features  and  (harm. 


IV 


11  It's  no  use,"  said  Donovan.  "  I  can't  be  a 
Christian.      It's  no  use  tryin'  any  more." 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  was  Bitting  in  his 
room  and  had  been  imploring  him  to  come  back 
to  the  church. 

M  God  knows,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  be  on  the 
level,  and  I  tried  me  best,  but  I  can't  see  the  kids 
starve.  You  folks  can  be  good  and  do  the  right 
thing,  but  it  ain't  in  the  game  fer  me.  There  ain't 
a  man  on  God's  earth  as  wants  to  do  right  mor'n 
I  do,  but  it's  no  go." 

His  eyes  twitched  nervously,  and  he  brushed 
the  back  of  his  hand  ;ic  ross  them  furtively. 

"  I  ain't  no  hypocrite,  anyway,"  he  went  on. 
"  When  I  ain't  livin'  straight,  I  won't  hang  around 
the  church  and  pretend  I'm  a  good  Christian. 
No,  I'm  a  professional  card  cheat,  that's  what  I 
am;  and  it's  no  use  my  tryin'  to  be  no  church 
deacon.  I  done  my  best,  but  I  can't  get  no  work 
on  the  level  that'll  keep  me  and  the  children." 

Donovan  had  held  out  bravely  at  his  work  in  the 
stable.  The  months  and  years  had  passed,  and 
from  six  A.  M.  to  nine  P.  M.  he  had  stuck  to  his 
place  in  the  malodorous  barracks  in  Cherry  Street. 
Some  days  he  was  sick  and  could  scarcely  stand. 
Still  he  kept  at  it,  until  at  last  a  more  serious  ill- 

273 


274  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

ness  brought  him  to  his  bed.  This  time  he  per- 
manently lost  his  position.  His  wife  did  her 
utmost  to  help  out.  She  took  on  extra  scrubbing, 
and  though  another  babe  was  about  to  be  born,  she 
kept  to  her  work,  coming  home  late  in  the  bitter 
cold,  staggering  often,  with  her  hands  cracked  and 
bleeding,  after  kneeling  an  hour  or  two  on  the. 
stone  floors  in  the  dirty  icy  water. 

It  chanced  that  Tim,  the  oldest  boy,  took  just 
this  time  for  a  relapse.  The  few  dollars  he 
earned  as  errand  boy  was  all  applied  to  the  rent, 
much  to  his  disgust,  for  a  boy  likes  to  spend  a  dime 
on  candy  and  moving-pictures  now  and  then,  and 
Tim  often  went  hungry.  A  dollar  left  on  the 
desk  one  day  offered  such  irresistible  possibilities 
of  enjoyment  that  Tim's  fingers  could  not  refrain 
from  seizing  it.  He  was  detected  and  discharged. 
His  father  was  so  furious  that  he  dared  not  come 
home  for  three  nights. 

It  seemed  that  his  efforts  to  do  right  were  draw- 
ing down  upon  him  a  chain  of  disasters.  Annie 
had  grown  into  a  pretty  girl  of  sixteen  with  a 
saucy  face,  and  flashing  dark  eyes  under  her  tangle 
of  brown  hair.  Mrs.  Donovan  had  to  scrub  to 
help  with  the  rent,  and  the  housework  fell  mainly 
upon  Annie,  and  she  resented  it.  She  had  to  take 
care  of  the  baby  and  scrub  out  the  house  and  get 
the  meals.  She  had  no  time  for  amusement,  and 
her  clothes  were  ragged.     It  was  not  strange  that 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      275 

during  her  parents'  absence,  she  stole  out  into  the 
street  and  hung  about  with  the  young  loafers  on 
the  corner  for  a  little  fun.  Worn  out  and  irri- 
table with  hard  work,  Mrs.  Donovan  found  fault 
with  her,  and  scolded  her  again  and  again.  Now 
there  was  a  new  and  changed  expression  in 
Annie's  face.  A  wild,  dare-devil  look  had  come 
into  her  eyes.  She  was  rebellious  and  taciturn, 
now  giving  way  to  furious  fits  of  temper,  now 
moody  and  silent,  and  refusing  to  answer  every 
question.  Her  mother  first  discovered  the  trag- 
edy that  lay  behind  this  strange  change  in  the  girl. 
She  dared  not  tell  Donovan,  and  it  was  long  be- 
fore he  discovered  that  his  daughter  was  disgraced 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  Donovan's  affection  for 
his  children  and  his  pride  in  them  was  the  strongest 
force  in  his  character,  and  this  second  blow  drove 
him  nearly  out  of  his  head.  The  girls  hid  from 
him  in  terror  of  their  lives.  Fury  yielded  to  de- 
spair. He  was  at  his  wit's  end.  He  was  out  of 
work,  the  children  had  no  food.  The  landlord 
would  wait  no  longer  for  the  rent,  and  served  him 
with  a  "  dispossess  notice."  His  boy  was  out  of 
work,  and  in  danger  of  arrest;  his  girl  was  dis- 
graced, and  his  wife  was  anticipating  the  birth  of 
a  child. 

Donovan  did  not  like  to  borrow  money,  but  on 
this  occasion  he  determined  to  ask  help  from  the 
church.     Unfortunately  both  the  Lady  of  Good 


276  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

Cheer  and  the  minister  were  away.  He  sought 
out  the  minister  in  charge,  and  requested  a  loan 
sufficient  to  cover  the  rent. 

"  He  told  me  he  had  no  money,''  said  Donovan 
afterwards,  "  an'  I  see  he  was  givin'  it  to  me 
straight.  He  was  broke  as  I  was.  He  pulled  out 
his  watch  and  told  me  to  put  it  up  and  take  the 
cash,  but  I  wouldn't  stand  fer  the  like  o'  that.  A 
man  that  would  do  a  minister  out  of  his  watch 
ought  to  light  in  a  place  five  times  hotter  than  they 
keep  for  gamblers  and  card  cheats." 

He  went  home  undecided.  His  wife  had  just 
come  in  white  and  haggard  from  her  work.  She 
looked  at  him  inquiringly,  but  spoke  no  word  of 
complaint.  Little  Katie,  who  had  heard  he  had 
gone  out  for  food,  was  not  so  considerate.  She 
ran  up,  her  rosy  cheeks  streaked  with  grime  where 
she  had  tried  to  rub  away  the  tears  of  hunger. 

"  Dive  Katie  turn  bread.  Katie's  hung'y,"  she 
said.  There  was  not  a  morsel  to  eat  in  the  house. 
Donovan  looked  around  at  the  expectant  hungry 
little  faces,  and  saw  as  he  glanced  at  his  wife  how 
she  tried  to  hide  her  bleeding  hands,  and  how 
bravely  she  was  struggling  to  keep  back  the  sobs. 
His  eyes  twitched,  as  he  tried  to  blink  away  the 
tears.  It  was  a  topsy-turvy  world,  and  a  queer 
God  to  treat  a  man  like  this  when  all  he  wanted 
was  to  live  straight  and  be  a  Christian.  Then  he 
shut  his  broken  teeth  together  with  a  snap,  and 
clenched  his  slender  white  hands. 


A    CRIMINAL   BY    NECESSITY       277 

"  It's  no  use,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 

He  got  up  without  a  word  to  his  wife  and  went 
straight  to  the  saloon  to  hunt  up  the  friend  of  the 
poor,  "  the  finest  Christian  gentleman  in  New 
York." 

11  Tom,"  he  said,  "  lend  me  twenty-five  dollars. 
I'll  pay  you  back  in  a  day  or  two." 

"  Sure,  Jerry,"  said  the  great  politician,  "  don't 
worry  about  it.     I  know  you're  on  the  square." 

He  went  home  and  paid  the  rent  and  bought 
food  for  the  children.  That  night  he  was  back 
at  the  saloon.  He  picked  up  a  game  or  two  of 
cards,  and  soon  had  enough  to  pay  off  his  debt  to 
Hennessey. 

Now  there  was  plenty  of  food,  and  the  house 
was  once  more  well  fitted  up,  as  he  redeemed  all 
the  articles  he  had  put  in  pawn.  His  wife  could 
stay  at  home  and  take  care  of  her  girls.  She  was 
no  more  the  tired,  fretful,  worn-out  toiler  who 
drove  her  daughters  into  the  street.  The  sweet 
spirit  of  motherhood  shone  again' in  her  deep  grey 
eyes  and  brooded  over  the  house.  The  children 
were  happy  and  well.  All  were  well  but  Dono- 
van. In  his  weak,  shifty  eyes,  that  used  to  twinkle 
with  fun  even  on  the  darkest  days,  there  was  now 
a  strange,  dull  weariness.  A  shadow  had  fallen 
upon  him. 

The  Lady  of  Good  Cheer  found  him  thus  on 
her  return,  and  was  cruelly  hurt  when  she  learned 
what  had  happened.     She  implored  him  to  give 


278  BESIDE    THE    BOWERY 

up  gambling,  but  he  shook  his  head  sadly  and  said: 
"What  can  I  do?  You  know  it's  no  use.  I 
can't  see  the  children  starve." 

She  could  not  answer  him,  for  she  had  sought 
the  city  from  end  to  end  in  vain  for  work  that  he 
could  do.  With  his  weak  eyes  that  shut  him  out 
from  reading  and  writing,  and  his  frail  body,  in- 
capable of  heavy  toil,  what  was  there  he  could  do? 
She  could  not  give  up  the  hope  that  in  some  way 
the  matter  could  be  adjusted,  and  to-day  they  had 
been  having  a  long  talk  over  the  possibilities  be- 
fore him.  They  were  interrupted  by  the  abrupt 
entrance  of  a  woman,  a  strange  looking  creature, 
ragged  and  dishevelled,  hard-featured  and  brazen- 
faced, with  swollen  features  and  coarse  lines  about 
her  lips.  She  was  unspeakably  dirty,  and  in  that 
neat  pretty  little  home  she  looked  decidedly  out 
of  place.  She  picked  up  a  torn  dirty  shawl.  "  I 
come  back  fer  me  shawl,"  she  said,  and  went  out 
without  further  ado. 

"Who  is  that  woman?"  asked  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer. 

"  When  I  was  coming  home  from  the  saloon 
last  night,  I  found  her  lying  in  the  street,  drunk," 
said  Donovan.  "  I  couldn't  leave  her  there. 
That's  no  place  fer  a  senseless  woman  to  be  lyin', 
with  them  toughs  and  hoboes  hangin'  around. 
She  may  not  be  any  too  good,  but  that's  no  reason 
why  I  should  leave  her  to  them  fellers.  So  I  got 
her  up  here,  and  she  slept  here  all  night." 


oy  j.  ji    |)t-ni--- 


HOMELESS 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      279 

"Where  did  she  sleep?  You  haven't  much 
extra  room." 

"  She  slept  in  my  bed  and  I  slept  on  the  floor 
in  here,"  said  Donovan  simply. 

"  But  she's  terribly  dirty,"  said  the  Lady  of 
Good  Cheer. 

"  She  is  that,"  he  answered.  "  It'll  take  my 
wife  a  day  or  two  to  clean  out  all  she's  left  behind 
her.  But  what  could  I  do?  I  ain't  a  good  man. 
I  can't  be  a  Christian  like  you  folks  up  at  the 
church,  but  I  can't  have  a  poor  woman  lyin'  on  the 
street.     Suppose  it  was  my  own  daughter,  now? !' 

Not  many  days  after  there  was  a  knock  at 
Donovan's  door.  At  his  invitation  there  entered 
a  young  gentleman  arrayed  in  frock  coat  and  silk 
hat,  with  patent  leather  shoes  and  lavender  gloves, 
a  most  amazingly  elegant  figure  for  the  fourth 
ward.  Donovan  looked  him  over  with  his  shift- 
ing eyes  for  a  minute  or  two  in  sheer  astonishment, 
his  head  cocked  on  one  side  in  his  usual  attitude  of 
attention.     Then  suddenly  he  recognised  him. 

"  Harkins  !"  he  cried. 

"  Sure,  it's  me!  "  said  the  gorgeous  personage, 
with  a  strained  smile  that  betrayed  some  conscious- 
ness of  his  magnificence.     "  Didn't  ye  know  me?  " 

Donovan  rose  from  his  seat  and  advanced  to- 
ward him,  his  eyes  twitching  more  and  more  rap- 
idly, more  than  ever  like  a  little  bantam,  as  he 
looked  up  at  the  great  six  footer. 

"  You  get  out  of  here !  "  he  said,  biting  off  his 


280  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

words  angrily.  "  Do  you  hear  me?  You  get  out 
of  here!" 

Harkins'  jaw  dropped.  He  looked  down  at 
the  little  man  in  consternation. 

"  Why,  Jerry!  "  he  cried.  "What's  the  mat- 
ter?    I  thought  you'd  be  glad  to  see  me !  " 

"  Matter!"  cried  Donovan.  "  You're  an  in- 
grate!     That's  what's  the  matter!  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  Harkins. 

"  Well,"  said  Donovan,  "  I  found  you  when 
you  was  on  the  outs,  in  a  saloon,  when  you  didn't 
have  a  cent,  or  a  friend  to  loan  you  one,  or  a  bit 
to  eat,  and  I  took  you  into  my  house  when  I  didn't 
have  any  too  much  myself,  and  I  fed  and  took 
care  of  you.     Ain't  that  so?  " 

"  Sure  it  is,"  said  Harkins. 

"  Well,  you  went  away  and  got  a  good  job,  and 
you  come  back  here  when  I  was  a  drinkin',  and 
there  was  nothin'  to  eat  in  the  house.  You  had 
plenty  of  money  in  your  pocket  then,  didn't  you?  " 

"  I  was  doing  pretty  well,"  admitted  Harkins 
sheepishly. 

"  Well,  you  come  in  and  saw  Mrs.  Donovan, 
and  she  told  you  how  she  was  fixed,  an'  ye  could 
see  it  yerself  with  half  an  eye.  Did  you  come  up 
and  say,  i  Mrs.  Donovan,  you  was  good  to  me 
when  I  was  on  the  outs,  and  now  I  want  to  leave 
a  fiver  with  you  to  help  out  a  bit '  ?  Not  much 
you  didn't!  You  turns  on  your  heel,  and  leaves 
her  and  the  children  to  starve!     That's  what  I 


A   CRIMINAL  BY   NECESSITY      281 

call  an  ingrate!  And  above  all  things  on  God's 
earth  I  hate  an  ingrate!  Get  out  of  my  house!  " 
And  the  little  man  started  forward  so  menac- 
ingly, that  the  six  feet  of  gorgeous  array  in  front 
of  him  slunk  out  of  the  door,  and  disappeared 
swiftly  down  the  stairs. 


V 

Five  years  later  Jerry  Donovan  and  his  friend 
Danny  Riley  boarded  the  Fall  River  boat  one 
evening,  on  their  way  to  Boston  to  visit  an  old 
friend.  Danny  Riley  had  been  sexton  of  the 
church  for  many  years,  and  had  proved  such  a 
faithful  assistant  that  the  City  Mission  had  finally 
engaged  him  to  work  among  the  men  in  the  lodg- 
ing-homes. He  was  stockily  built,  and  had  the 
swinging  hitch  in  his  walk  that  is  characteristic  of 
the  old  time  Bowery  boy.  He  had  a  broad,  hu- 
morous Celtic  face,  and  his  wide  mouth  had  a 
tendency  to  creep  towards  his  ears  in  a  compre- 
hensive grin,  whose  expansive  geniality  was  some- 
what limited  by  a  harsh  upper  lip  which  he  had 
recently  revealed  by  shaving  his  sandy  moustache. 
His  keen  blue  eyes  could  twinkle  or  flash  as  occa- 
sion demanded  with  the  keenness  of  youth,  though 
his  crop  of  sandy  hair  was  beginning  to  recede 
from  its  borders,  and  to  show  a  few  bare  patches 
here  and  there. 

They  sat  down  in  the  cabin  and  watched  the 
motley  crowd  pour  in,  rich  and  poor,  gay  and  sad, 
some  gaudy,  some  rusty.  At  first  the  two  men 
from  Chatham  Square  felt  somewhat  uncomfort- 
able and  out  of  place  in  this  crowd  of  personages 
from  up  town.     But  their  keen  eyes  soon  noted 

282 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      283 

the  uncertain  steps  and  eccentric  behaviour  of  some 
of  the  gentlemen  who  passed,  and  their  ears  de- 
tected in  the  boisterous  tones  which  they  overheard 
some  indications  that  the  world  above  Fourteenth 
Street,  which  superficially  was  so  far  removed 
from  the  Bowery,  was  yet  in  its  inmost  nature 
subject  to  the  same  laws,  controlled  by  the  same 
forces,  and  in  need  of  the  same  help. 

"  Say,  half  this  gang  is  a  bit  leary  eyed,"  said 
Danny,  "  and  that  woman  with  the  bathtub  hat 
give  me  the  eye  like  one  o'  them  Allen  Street  girls. 
This  gang  is  as  tough  as  any  we've  struck  down  in 
Doyers  Street  for  sure." 

"  Why  don't  you  hold  a  meeting,  like  the  ones 
you  ran  there  in  Chinatown,"  said  Jerry.  "  I'll 
help  with  the  singing,  and  I'll  tell  'em  you're  on 
the  level,  and  I  know  it,  though  I  ain't  a  Christian 
myself." 

"  I'm  in  for  it  if  you  are,"  said  Dan.  "  We'll 
have  to  ask  the  captain  fer  a  permit,  or  they'll  put 
the  cop  on  us." 

So  they  rose  and  walked  along  the  deck  till  they 
met  a  tall  man  resplendent  in  blue  coat  and  gold 
braid. 

"  Say,  Cap,  kin  we  hold  a  gospel  meeting  on 
your  boat  to-night?  "  said  Dan. 

The  captain  looked  in  amazement  at  Dan  with 
his  Bowery  walk,  his  shorn  lip  and  bullet-head, 
and  at  the  diminutive  Jerry  who  stood  surveying 
him  out  of  the  corners  of  his  twitching  eyes,  while 


284  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

an  apologetic  smile  parted  his  lips,  and  revealed 
his  uneven  teeth. 

"  We  never  have  meetings  on  this  boat,"  said 
the  captain.  "  The  people  don't  like  to  be  both- 
ered with  them." 

"  Give  us  a  show,  Cap,"  said  Dan.  "  You  can 
come  yourself,  and  if  there's  any  kickin'  you  can 
shut  us  up." 

"  But  who  are  you?  How  do  I  know  you  can 
hold  a  meeting?  "  asked  the  captain. 

11  I'm  Lodging  House  Missionary  of  the  City 
Mission,"  said  Dan,  pulling  out  his  testimonials. 

"  Try  it  on,  Cap,  and  if  the  crowd  don't  like 
us  and  cry  for  more,  you  can  tell  us  to  chuck  it 
any  minute." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  captain.  "  Go  ahead. 
But  mind  if  there's  any  complaint,  you've  got  to 
stop." 

"  That's  a  go,"  said  Dan.  "  Now,  Jerry,  get 
to  work  at  the  piano,  and  we'll  give  'em  a  song  or 
two." 

Jerry  sat  down  and  hammered  out  a  plaintive 
accompaniment,  and  they  started  in  on  "  Where 
is  My  Wandering  Boy  To-night,"  Jerry  making 
casual  excursions  into  the  tenor  whenever  the  air 
seemed  safe  in  Dan's  hands.  A  crowd  soon  gath- 
ered, attracted  by  this  unusual  performance,  and 
Dan  said,  "  Now  let's  sing  something  every  one 
knows."  They  tried  "  Throw  Out  the  Life 
Line,"   and   "  Nearer   My  God   to   Thee,"   and 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      285 

under  the  stimulus  of  Dan's  genial  flattery,  the 
crowd  to  its  great  amazement  soon  found  itself 
singing  lustily. 

Dan  read  a  few  verses  from  the  story  of  the 
Prodigal  Son,  and  started  in  to  speak:  "I  sup- 
pose you  folks  is  wonderin'  what  two  guys  like  us 
is  up  to,  holdin'  a  meetin'  on  this  here  boat,  so  I 
may  as  well  tell  ye  that  I'm  here  to  testify  to  the 
power  of  God  to  save  and  keep  a  man  from  the 
sin  of  drink.  Thirteen  years  ago  there  wan't  a 
hobo  on  the  Bowery  worse  off  than  me.  I  was 
separated  from  my  wife  and  child,  because  of  the 
drink.  I  was  good  for  nothin'  but  to  hang  around 
No.  9  Bowery  or  Barney's,  wid  me  belly  to  the 
bar.  You  could  float  a  good  sized  ship  with 
the  whisky  I've  drunk  in  my  time.  I  was  as  bad 
a  crook  as  any  of  'em.  There's  no  crime  on  the 
books  I  ain't  been  guilty  of  but  murder.  Me  and 
the  other  'bos  hung  around  Chatham  Square  wait- 
in'  fer  some  gazabo  ter  come  along  that  was  fool 
enough  fer  us  to  handle  him  with  the  knockout 
drops  or  the  black-jack,  and  we'd  go  through  his 
clothes,  and  blow  all  we  got  on  drink.  Sometimes 
I'd  go  down  to  the  Battery  and  hire  meself  out 
as  a  greenhorn  to  some  rube  from  up  the  State, 
and  off  I'd  go  wid  him,  and  wait  fer  a  chance  ter 
do  him  dirty,  and  back  I'd  come  to  blow  in  me 
cash  in  Chatham  Square. 

"  Well,  one  day  I'd  just  got  out  from  doin'  time 
fer  a  house-breakin'  deal,  and  I  was  on  me  uppers 


286  BESIDE   THE    BOWERY 

fer  fair.  I'd  blown  in  all  the  cash  I  had  on  the 
drink,  and  I'd  even  sold  me  clothes  and  was  goin' 
about  in  relievers,  the  dirtiest,  raggedest  outfit  ye 
ever  see.  I  met  a  jigger  comin'  along  down  the 
Bowery,  and  I  struck  him  fer  some  food.  *  I'm 
starving'  says  I.  *  I  ain't  had  nothin'  to  eat  for 
two  days.'  He  looks  me  over  kind  o'  sharp  like, 
and  then  he  says,  '  Come  in  here,  and  I'll  get  you 
some  dinner,'  and  he  took  me  into  Beef  Steak 
John's  and  sat  me  down  at  the  table  and  ordered 
a  fine  dinner.  Well,  I  sat  and  looked  at  it.  I 
couldn't  eat  so  much  as  a  mouthful.  You  boys 
know  well  enough  when  a  man's  on  a  spree  he 
don't  want  no  food.  No  more  did  I.  All  I 
wanted  was  the  money  to  get  a  rosiner.  So  at 
last  I  had  to  own  up  to  it.  '  I  can't  eat,'  says  I. 
Well,  he  didn't  get  red-headed.  He  give  me  a 
little  talk  like  a  friend  and  then  shook  me  hand, 
and  give  me  a  quarter.  l  Friend,'  says  he,  '  come 
and  see  me  to-morrow  at  twelve  at  the  church,  and 
with  God's  help  we'll  make  a  man  of  you  yet.' 
Well,  friends,  it  was  that  hand-shake  as  saved  me 
life.  I  went  to  see  him  the  next  day,  thinking 
I  could  get  more  money  out  of  him,  but  he  give 
me  such  a  talk,  that  before  he  got  through  I  got 
right  down  on  me  knees  and  made  a  little  prayer. 
Well,  friends,  that  was  thirteen  years  ago,  and 
from  that  day  to  this,  I  ain't  touched  a  drop  of  the 
stuff.  They  got  me  a  job  tendin'  furnace,  and  a 
poor  job  it  was,  but  I  stuck  to  it,  and  then  they 


A   CRIMINAL   BY   NECESSITY      287 

got  me  a  place  in  McClure's  woodyard.  And 
after  some  months  I  got  me  wife  and  little  boy 
back  again,  and  they  made  me  sexton  at  the  old 
Presbyterian  Church.  I  ain't  perfect,  and  I  have 
me  faults,  but  there  ain't  a  man  can  point  the 
fingers  at  me  and  say,  '  Danny,  you're  fakin'.' 
They  all  know  I'm  on  the  level,  and  they  know  it's 
straight  goods  when  I  testify  to  the  power  of  God 
to  save  and  keep  a  man  from  the  drink  for  thirteen 
years,  eight  months  and  ten  days." 

As  he  finished,  Jerry  sprang  up.  "  That's 
straight,  what  he's  tellin'  ye,"  he  said.  "  I've 
known  Danny  Riley  fer  eight  years,  and  he's  never 
touched  a  drop  of  the  stuff.  He's  on  the  level, 
and  you  can  bank  on  all  he  says.  I  ain't  a  Chris- 
tian myself,"  he  went  on.  "  I  wish  to  God  I  was. 
I  tried  to  be,  but  it  wasn't  no  use.  I'm  a  profes- 
sional card  cheat,  and  I  work  in  a  poolroom  on  the 
Bowery.  I  wish  to  God  I  could  get  out  of  it. 
The  only  happy  days  of  me  life  was  when  I  was 
tryin'  to  be  a  Christian.  I  was  hungry  and  sick, 
but  I  was  all  right  in  me  mind,  and  I  could  say 
me  prayers  and  go  to  church.  Now  when  I  hear 
them  old  songs,  it  makes  me  feel  like  cryin',  fer 
I  know  I'm  crooked.  But  I  tell  you,  listen  to 
what  Danny  says  and  you'll  be  all  right.  There 
ain't  no  other  kind  o'  life  worth  livin'  than  what 
he's  tellin'  ye,  an'  ye  can't  be  happy  no  other  way. 
Only  ye've  got  to  be  the  real  thing,  on  the  level 
and  no  fakin' !  " 


288  BESIDE   THE   BOWERY 

Danny  rose  again.  "  Now  if  any  of  you  peo- 
ple has  been  lettin'  the  devil  run  the  show  fer  ye, 
or  if  the  drink's  been  makin'  a  fool  o'  ye,  cut  it 
out!  Start  in,  right  away!  to-night!  Fm  here 
to  tell  you  that  if  ye  get  down  on  yer  knees  and 
say,  '  God  help  me  to  cut  out  the  booze !  '  if  you 
mean  business  and  no  fakin',  he'll  surely  help  you 
and  save  you,  like  he  did  me.  Only  you've  got 
to  mean  business." 

Several  men  who  had  been  drinking  heavily 
stopped  to  talk  with  Danny,  and  Jerry  sat  by  and 
watched  with  eager  attention,  his  head  tilted  on 
one  side,  his  eyes  moving  nervously  in  his  excite- 
ment, while  his  friend  was  drawing  from  the  peni- 
tents a  promise  to  amend  their  lives.  He  tried  to 
smile  encouragingly  at  Danny,  but  his  lips  trem- 
bled, and  now  and  then  he  furtively  drew  the  back 
of  his  hand  across  his  half  blind  eyes.  "  I  wish  to 
God  I  could  be  a  good  man,"  he  muttered,  "  but 
it's  no  use." 


THE   END 


